Build it Up, Tear it Down
by Joycelyn Solo
Summary: Captain America has a new team to help him combat Hydra, including girlfriend Sharon Carter, best friend Bucky Barnes and wingman Sam Wilson. (sequel to "Lost, Found and Somewhere Between")
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Marvel franchises or characters (more's the pity), but I do enjoy playing with them. This work is for entertainment purposes only with no intention of copyright infringement.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Steve Rogers/Sharon Carter; Romance, Adventure

**Chapter One**

Sharon wasn't entirely sure how she found herself outside of her old high school auditorium on the night of her tenth class reunion but, here she was, sitting in the car and hoping no one would notice while she debated going in or not.

It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed high school. She'd been active in sports and student government and enjoyed her classes. She'd gotten along well with her teachers and a good majority of her classmates. She had fond memories of all of the typical teenage rites of passage.

She just didn't see why she had to relive them every five years.

Sharon had attended the previous reunion and it had been perfectly fine. She'd been in medical school, with top marks at the end of the semester, and had been dating the fourth-year med student who'd accompanied her.

She couldn't claim such accomplishments this time around.

She'd quit medical school in the middle of the following semester, dumped the fourth-year, and transferred to the SHIELD Academy. As far as her friends and former classmates knew, she'd gone from being Sharon Carter, future doctor, to Sharon Carter, agent of...insurance. Yes. That had been the glamorous cover assigned to her when she joined SHIELD and that was the cover her alma mater confirmed when they sent her a save-the-date to the reunion last fall.

Of course, last fall, Sharon had been an agent of SHIELD and her cover story had been solid. Since then, SHIELD had fallen in the discovery that Hydra had been grown within the agency for for decades. With the dissolution of SHIELD and its assets, many things — including Sharon's cover, job and apartment — had disappeared overnight.

She'd thought she'd landed on her feet, being recruited by the CIA almost immediately, but that lasted about a week before circumstances had her eventually joining Captain America's support team, helping the super soldier put out the fires that had erupted in the absence of SHIELD.

Sharon couldn't tell any of her classmates that, however, as it jeopardized the safety of her teammates. And she couldn't tell anyone who she was dating, mostly because no one would believe that she was dating Captain America himself.

It was stupid, and she knew it, but it was mostly Steve's absence that made going to the reunion such a chore. He was off somewhere with Iron Man, saving the world or something, and she was stuck flying solo, surrounded by people she'd thought she'd left far behind.

"There you are," a voice pulled Sharon from her internal debate.

"Here I am," said Sharon. She pushed the door open and stepped out of the car. "You look great, Mollie."

Her friend twirled in the bright green dress she wore. "I do, don't I? Hank's either gonna eat his heart out on his own or I'm going to feed it to him."

Sharon wasn't quite sure what to say and so she just gave a thin smile. Mollie was the reason she'd even made it as far as the parking lot to the reunion. She'd begged Sharon to be her wing-woman since she'd only recently divorced her high school sweetheart who would also be in attendance.

"Let's get inside. I don't see Hank's car yet but I know he's coming and I know he's bringing _her_ with him."

Sharon allowed Mollie to pull her toward the entrance, listening again to how _she_ was the reason Mollie hadn't been able to sucker-punch Hank with the divorce papers she'd drawn up with her lawyer a month ago.

"Now that bonehead thinks he's leaving _me_ when I was going to be leaving _him_. I just know he did it to spite me," she continued as she dragged Sharon through the doors.

They stopped at the front table to pick up their name badges, Sharon's complete with her less-than-flattering senior picture printed on it. _Why did I ever think bangs were a good idea?_ she thought.

"Why did I ever think bangs were a good idea?" Mollie asked as she pinned her own badge on. "Of course, why'd I ever think that about Hank, right?"

Sharon refrained from reminding Mollie that she and Hank had been happy - and the envy of most of their classmates - for more than ten years, seven of those married and the last five raising their twin boys.

Looping her arm through Sharon's, Mollie forced a bright smile. "Look at us, a couple of single gals out for a night with people we kind of wished we'd never see again."

Again, Sharon only nodded and as she and Mollie were swept up in the crowd.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for Mollie to ditch her wing-woman. Sharon watched from the table of marching band members she'd been welcomed to as no fewer than four former classmates vied for the affection of the head cheerleader.<p>

The attention was probably just what Mollie needed, Sharon thought. No matter what her friend said, she knew it hadn't been an easy decision going to the divorce attorney when therapy had not worked for her and Hank. Then to have Hank announce that he'd not only been talking to an attorney, too, but also involved with another woman...well, Sharon could understand Mollie's bitterness.

"And what are you up to, Sharon?" asked Amy, former drum major, current mother of three and manager of a local bank. "I heard you lost your job a couple months back. Tough break."

"It was just as well since it gave me the opportunity to go freelance," she answered vaguely, massaging the facts to stay as close to the truth as she could.

"And how's that working out for you?" Jen asked, herself newly unemployed and using the reunion as a networking opportunity.

"It's good," Sharon answered. "Setting up a new office, building up a new client base, that sort of thing."

"Are you seeing anyone?" Jeff, recently divorced construction foreman and former sax player, asked. "My mom says you haven't dated anyone since that Josh guy you brought to the last reunion."

Sharon gave him a benign smile, knowing from her own mother than Jeff had been serial-dating since that divorce. "Starting a business from scratch is pretty time consuming. Dating's not really a priority right now."

"That's really disappointing," a familiar voice said behind her. "After I flew all this way."

Sharon turned and looked up, surprise and pleasure on her face at the sight of her boyfriend, Steve Rogers — otherwise known as Captain America — standing behind her.

"You're wearing a suit," she said, ignoring the stares and whispered "Is that..?"s behind her.

"Tony insisted...," Steve answered and politely accepted the seat one of her table-mates offered as she moved over. "I'm not sure why he cared — or even how he knew your reunion was tonight — but he insisted on dropping me off here instead of taking me back to DC."

"Whatever his reasons, I'm really glad to see you." Sharon leaned over and kissed his cheek then, for Jeff's benefit, planted another on his lips.

A throat was cleared behind them and Sharon smiled at Steve as Jeff asked if she was going to introduce her friend.

"Right," she said, turning. "Everyone, this is Steve. Steve, this is Amy, Jen, Jeff and Sarah."

"Hello," Steve said, smiling politely. "I never made it to my high school reunion. This seems nice."

"I think you just missed your seventy-fifth reunion," Sharon said.

"So you're really him then?" Jen asked, her eyes wide. "Holy crap. Share Bear's dating Captain America."

"Share Bear?" Steve asked at the same time Sharon groaned.

"An unimaginative nickname I really hoped everyone would have forgotten by now," Sharon explained.

Steve laughed. "My life's literally an open book so I feel like this is going to be a very enlightening evening." He leaned over the table toward Sharon's classmates and asked, "What else can you tell me about Share Bear?"

* * *

><p>"I don't think I ever told you how terrific you look tonight," Steve said as he walked with Sharon up to her parents' door.<p>

"You look pretty terrific yourself," she said, leaning into him. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit, at least not in this century."

"Tony not only insisted but he apparently picked it out and had it sized for me."

"Like a fairy godmother getting you ready for the ball," she said, smiling as she went up on her toes to kiss him. "I'm really glad you were there tonight. I really didn't want to be, especially without you."

"Your friend Mollie seemed to be doing okay."

"I think she will be. She's riding a good head of mad to get over the hurt. I don't know if it's healthy but it seems to help. And I'm glad Hank didn't show up until well after she'd already been hit on by at least a dozen guys. That probably helped, too."

They stopped at the front stoop so Sharon could fish her keys out of her purse but the door was pulled open before she had a chance.

"Steve!" Henry Carter said excitedly. "Angela said Sharon was bringing you home tonight. I didn't realize you were going to the reunion."

"It was kind of last minute," Steve explained as he shared a small smile with Sharon at her father's obvious enthusiasm.

She gave him a gentle shove, pushing him down the hall after her father while she closed the door behind them. She knew her dad would keep Steve occupied for a while — and Steve was just too darn polite not to let him — so made her way upstairs to change out of her fancy clothes and into her pajamas.

Her mother found her a few moments later in the hall closet.

"I see your dad cornered Steve," she said. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm grabbing blankets to make up the guest bed for Steve."

"Did you two have a fight?"

"What?"

"Why else would you be making up the guest bed?"

Sharon was quiet a moment. "Mom, we don't sleep together."

"But the last time you were here —"

"I'd been stabbed and Steve insisted on sleeping on the floor so he could keep an eye on me."

Angela looked surprised and then thoughtful. "I assume the separate bedrooms are not your choice?"

"Not exactly." Sharon sighed, grabbing an extra pillow, fresh sheets and a blanket. "I don't want to push him and risk pushing him away but..." She bit her lip, shutting the closet door and heading toward the guest room across the hall from her old bedroom. "It's not a big deal. Right? He's from a time when they just took things slowly."

Angela touched a hand to her daughter's shoulder as they entered the spare bedroom. "Honey, are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Sharon dropped the armload of linens on the bed and turned to shut the door behind her mother. "Honestly, Mom," she said quietly, "Sleeping together isn't the only thing I'm waiting for."

Angela waited, maternal sympathy on her face.

"He hasn't used the 'L'-word," Sharon said softly. "Again, I know courtship was different seventy years ago but I just love him so much and I'm afraid to tell him..." Sharon squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep back the tears that suddenly welled. When she opened them again, two fat tears rolled down her cheek. "I'm afraid he doesn't feel the same and if I say it..."

"Sweetheart," Angela took her daughter into her arms, patted the back of her head as it laid on her shoulder - much as she used to when Sharon was a little girl. "Anyone can plainly see Steve cares very deeply for you. You shouldn't be afraid to tell him about your feelings."

"I know he cares, Mom, I do. A part of me just worries it's not enough."

* * *

><p>Standing in the hallway, Steve let out the breath he'd been holding. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop but he'd been looking for Sharon and couldn't help but overhear the tail end of her conversation with her mother.<p>

He had no idea Sharon was unsure about their relationship, about his feelings for her. She meant the world to him. She'd helped him find his lost friend. She'd given him a purpose and the resources to fulfill it. She'd returned pieces of his past to him. She gave him a reason to be happy about the future.

He backed slowly down the hall, the conversation he shouldn't have heard turning away from him to other topics, thankfully.

He needed some air, to think. He made his way down the back steps toward the kitchen, thankfully avoiding Henry, and out the French doors to the deck.

The evening was cool, the air fragrant from Sharon's mom's garden. He'd spent a lot of time at this house in the beginning of their relationship. After Sharon was hurt by a Hydra agent, she'd come here to rest under her doctor parents' watchful eyes. And his. He'd rarely let her out of his sight, so worried about her and the effects of his super-serum-infused blood as it coursed through her veins.

How could she doubt her place in his heart?

Obviously he hadn't told her enough what she meant to him, hadn't demonstrated, and he needed to fix that.

The only question was how.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Sharon awoke the next morning to a sticky note on her bedside lamp and a single yellow daisy in a cup on the nightstand.

She smiled, the doubts she'd harbored about her relationship with Steve seeming insignificant in the light of day with the note in his handwriting and the happy flower he left staring back at her.

She picked up the flower, gave it a sniff, and then wondered how much trouble Steve was going to be in when her mother realized he'd cut a flower from her garden.

_Good thing he's already gone jogging_, she thought as she read his note and pushed her blankets aside. She grabbed her phone, activating the app to track the GPS on his. She got dressed, watching the little blue dot of her boyfriend move around on the map of her parents' neighborhood.

She pulled on her shoes and, quietly as she could, snuck out the front door and stretched before taking off to intercept the dot as it circled toward the house.

Taking a deep breath of morning air, it felt good to run the same paths she'd run as an athlete growing up. Though she'd always been active in school sports and had met the physical requirements of SHIELD, she'd never considered herself particularly fast or strong.

Not until six months ago, that is, when she received four pints of Steve's blood in a life-saving transfusion.

While her dad, a doctor like her mom, didn't believe Steve's blood had any lingering effects, Sharon had never felt better in her life. She wasn't up for sprinting a two-minute mile with Steve or even an endurance match with Bucky but she'd definitely outpaced her personal bests at the SHIELD track.

Henry assumed Steve's blood caused a placebo effect - that Sharon was only faster and stronger because she thought she should be faster and stronger.

She didn't really care to argue with her dad and simply enjoyed the effects, which she did as she increased her speed. According to the GPS, she should have caught up to Steve by now but so far she hadn't seen anyone save old Mr. Jenkins out walking his Bull Mastiff Trixie. She was just about to pull her phone out again when someone fell into step beside her.

"Going my way?" Steve asked as he matched her pace.

"If your way is around the block back to my parents' for breakfast, yes," she answered, smiling over at him as they ran.

"I do enjoy your mom's cooking," he said. "Think she'll make pancakes?"

"I make you pancakes all of the time," Sharon reminded him.

"Yes, but you use whole grains and seeds — your mom uses Bisquick."

At that, she bumped his shoulder with hers and sped up with no real hope of outpacing him. "I guess you don't have to worry about eating particularly healthy," she said when he easily caught up to her again. "But one of us does."

"I like your pancakes, too," he pouted. "But your mom's are just like my mom used to make."

Since he mentioned his mother, Sharon refrained from saying "full of trans-fats" and instead told him there might have been a bag of chocolate chips sitting on the counter just for him.

"In that case," he said, turning to her. "Race you!" And he shot off at a remarkable speed she of course couldn't hope to match. The good news was that she didn't have to, knowing the neighborhood, and took a shortcut through Mrs. Jeffries' backyard that only had her trailing him by a couple of minutes.

* * *

><p>After Steve got his fill of chocolate-chip pancakes, he and Sharon headed back to DC. While it was geographically a two-hour trip by car, Sharon knew the weekend traffic could just as easily turn it into a six-hour nightmare and they wanted to see Bucky and Sam before they left for Italy. They'd been asked by local law enforcement to assist with what they perceived as a potential Hydra cell. From the intel, it seemed like a job Falcon and the Winter Soldier could handle on their own while Steve was busy with other obligations.<p>

With the music turned low and Steve behind the wheel, Sharon went through his itinerary for the week, including updates he'd missed while he'd been off with Iron Man.

"A team of Stark techs will be around starting Tuesday to update our computers and security system," she reminded him as she finished with Monday's schedule and Steve maneuvered them onto the freeway. "They'll be in my way more than yours but they will have access to the entire building. They'll be around for a couple of days every week for the next three weeks. They'll also be updating our comm systems, which will be nice when you boys are in the field."

"Our communications seem pretty good to me," Steve said.

"Yes, but aren't you're just happy not to dial the Operator to make an outgoing call?"

"Funny," he deadpanned. "What else you got?"

"You have your usual mystery phone call at ten Wednesday morning followed by a twelve-thirty meeting on Capitol Hill with Senator Stern's newly elected replacement. I know he wants to offer you his deepest apologies for his predecessor but Aunt Peggy always warned me never to trust elected officials - here or in England. Be careful not to make any promises we can't keep. "

"Should you go with me for that?"

"I can but I'll have to shuffle a meeting with Maria Hill. She says she's got some leads she'd like you and Sam to follow that she can't."

"Shouldn't I be in on that meeting?"

"Not unless you want to go dress shopping afterward."

At Steve's sidelong glance, she explained, "She needs a dress for her sister's wedding and I've been tasked with helping her find something that doesn't make her look like like an idiot - her words."

"You're going to the mall with Fury's former second-in-command?"

"Apparently hooking up with you has raised my stock and I'm no longer a faceless and nameless Level 6. Carter legacy or not, I think Hill only called me 'Agent 13' because she couldn't be bothered to remember my name."

"Well, she's always struck me as very...focused."

"Since her current focus is using us to accomplish what she can't through Stark Industries, I'm willing to go along. I think we have her to thank for Pepper Potts outfitting our endeavor to begin with."

"I believe the person we have to thank for that is you, Sharon." Knowing she was just going to dismiss the praise, as was her way, he reached his hand over to cover hers. "I mean it. We wouldn't be in the position we are, to defuse Hydra and other threats, without you."

"It's a team effort, Steve. Without you, Sam and Bucky to run the actual missions, I'd be analyzing wiretaps at the CIA. Instead, I'm leading the glamorous life of office manager and personal shopper."

"You know you're more important than that, right? How much you mean?"

She had a sinking feeling they suddenly weren't talking about her position on the team and wondered if Steve had heard her conversation with her mother. "I know I'm valued," she finally said.

"Try invaluable, Sharon." He squeezed her hand lightly. "I mean that."

It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear from him but it would do for now. Instead of answering, she lifted his hand to her lips for a soft kiss and moved on to Thursday's schedule.

* * *

><p>Despite heavy traffic on the Beltway, Steve and Sharon arrived at HQ just in time to see Bucky and Sam before they headed to the airport.<p>

After watching his teammates pull away, Steve grabbed his bag from the back of Sharon's car and headed for the elevator. As he rode to the fourth floor, he contemplated the turn his life had taken since the fall of SHIELD.

He'd spent two months in Europe with Sam Wilson, a retired pararescueman he'd just met, trailing leads and rumors to find the mysterious Winter Soldier, otherwise known as his oldest and dearest friend James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. While Steve had thought Bucky lost during a mission in 1945, it turned out that Hydra had found and warped him into a weapon responsible for nearly 50 deaths over the course of seven decades.

It wasn't until they returned to the states that Steve learned that Bucky had gone into hiding with Sharon Carter, niece of Peggy whom Steve had harbored strong feelings for during the war. Sharon and Bucky had retreated to her family's cabin in the mountains where she helped him battle the demons that seventy years of brainwashing had caused.

By the time Steve and Sam arrived, Bucky and Sharon had formed a bond he'd been jealous of. His best friend - his brother in every way but blood - didn't remember him but protected and trusted Sharon, a woman whose loyalty Steve had questioned.  
>Steve had a difficult time trusting Sharon at first, finding out she was a SHIELD agent and Peggy's niece both unpleasant surprises for him, but he, too, came to care for her - more than he'd thought possible.<p>

Then an attack on Sharon during their stay in the mountains reminded him that Hydra and its agents were still a threat and Captain America couldn't afford to be off the grid any longer and had to do something about it.

Of course, when he'd returned to DC, Steve hadn't really known what that something was. It was Sharon who came up with their current set-up, securing space, resources and funding for his support team.

Using her aunt's connection with Stark Industries, Sharon met with the CEO of Stark herself, Pepper Potts, and brokered a deal that gave the Captain and his team everything they needed to monitor and defend against Hydra's threat, including a living wage, accommodations, equipment and vehicles.

While Steve had very little to do with the arrangements Sharon made with Stark Industries, he had his own connections to the corporation through its late founder, Howard, and his son, Tony — otherwise known as Iron Man.

When Tony had heard about the plans Pepper and Sharon were making, he dubbed them "Team America: World Police" and laughed at his own joke whenever he said it — which Steve didn't get and only seemed to amuse Tony more.

In only a few week's time, a former Stark warehouse used to store munitions in DC was converted into a garage, office, gym and living quarters — complete with Stark tech and and fully furnished by Potts.

While the decor was more modern than Steve cared for, his apartment had begun to feel like home and, again, he had Sharon to thank for that. When he'd disappeared in 1945, Howard Stark and Peggy Carter had preserved the contents of his Brooklyn apartment. As Peggy's health began to fail, her children sold those items to the Smithsonian and Sharon had managed to get most of them returned to their rightful owner.

As he let himself into his apartment, he was greeted by the careful blending of his old life and new. The books on the shelves were a mix of the ones he'd collected since waking up in the twenty-first century with the ones his father had kept in their old living room in the 1940s. A picture of his parents on their wedding day sat on the mantle next to a picture of Steve and Bucky in uniform, taken during the war and reproduced and framed by Sharon, as well as a picture of Steve and Sam taken only weeks ago downstairs in the gym.

There were similar touches throughout the apartment.

A blanket made by his grandmother and given to his mother was laid over a chair in the bedroom - too delicate in its age to use but a reminder of the comfort he'd felt wrapped in it as a child - and his mother's hope chest sat at the end of the bed.

The kitchen even had some of his mom's old pots, pans and serving ware. They, too, were for display only but the sight of his mom's cherished lead-glass pitcher and goblets reminded him of the happier memories from their Brooklyn apartment.

He and Sharon had also done some antiquing outside of Baltimore, in Catonsville and Ellicott City, to pick up wall art and other items that reflected his old life.

Dropping his duffel bag on the bed, he sorted dirty clothes into light, dark and super hero - he'd learned the hard way that it was a bad idea to wash his civvies with his Captain America uniform - and stacked the baskets by the door for later. As he carried his toiletries into the bathroom, he thought that she should have an extra set for as much as her been traveling g lately. He'd mention it to Sharon and they could pick up the necessary items when they went shopping.

He looked up at the clock - picked up at a flea market because it reminded him of the one in his old apartment - and decided he had enough time to sort through his mail, what little there was. Steve Rogers had only been on the grid for two years and didn't live any one place long enough to even get much junk mail — excluding the random things Sam, Tony and Clint Barton signed him up for because they thought it was hilarious. Captain America had a separate post office box that mostly contained cards and letters from children and the occasional "thank you" note from someone he'd saved. He made a point to go through that mail on the first week of every month, an appointment Sharon set up in his calendar for him and arranged with the post office.

He leaned against the kitchen counter as he sorted through the week's worth of mail someone — probably Sam since Sharon had been at her parents' for the reunion — had picked up. There were two credit card offers (_finally building some credit history_), a letter from Life Alert (_ha ha, Tony_, he thought), an ad from Rogaine (_you're killing me, Hawkeye_), a Victoria's Secret catalog (_Sam...or Black Widow_) and, finally, a bagged periodical at the bottom of the stack.

He tore the bag, pulled out the magazine, and immediately shoved it back inside like he'd released a poisonous snake. Of course, in his haste, the bottom of the bag ripped and the magazine - as well as its scandalous inserts - spread across the floor.

As he bent to pick up the spilled contents, he heard the door open behind him.

"Steve?" Sharon called. "Are you ready?"

"Just a second," he answered, sweeping furiously to collect the evidence before his girlfriend saw it.

"I know I'm early but there's no food in my apartment and I'm -" Sharon trailed off as she rounded the corner and caught sight of her boyfriend crouched on the floor with fistfuls of _Playboy_.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked, she fisted her hands on her hips but the smile she couldn't contain belayed the stern stance.

"I was just reading my mail..." he said, obviously flustered.

"And since when do you get nudie magazines?"

"Since Tony subscribed me to them." He looked up at her, his ears red in frustration and embarrassment.

Sharon knelt down and helped him gather the magazine inserts, despite his protests. "Naked women don't bother me, Steve," she laid her hand over one of his. "I'm sorry we bother you."

"They don't...I mean...You don't..."

"It's okay," she said. "Let me help you clean this up and then I'll buy you dinner."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Sharon's day started as it usually did, with a pre-dawn workout down in the first level gymnasium.

Despite the early start, she was was still too late to workout with Steve, which was just as well since he tended to be more of a distraction - even if that distraction still involved getting her heart rate up.

It was the price she paid for dating a ridiculously attractive man, one who lit a lusty fire in her gut every time she looked at him. She'd seen enough of him post-workout, his hair damp and his clothes sticking to every glorious muscle, to know there was no way she'd be able to focus on her own cardio routine with him lifting weights only a few feet away.

_Seriously, Sharon_, she told herself as she warmed up on the mat. _Stop thinking about how hot Steve is or you'll never get through your workout - much less get anything else - done today_.

With the current state of their relationship, stalled as it was at second base, Sharon also didn't need to get herself worked up by mere thoughts of Steve. She'd already found it difficult to sleep last night after necking on the couch with him during the movie they'd neglected to watch.

Most of the time, she couldn't believe how lucky she was to be with Steve, to be held and kissed and cared for by him. And other times, usually in the dark of night, alone in her own bed, she couldn't help but want more. It had been six months since their "first date" at the diner up north and they hadn't advanced past kissing and light petting.

Sharon knew and tried to understand where Steve came from. For him, 1945 had only been a few years ago and he missed out on the sexual revolution of the Sixties and Seventies. Even discounting that, Steve had been shy around women before and during the war. His relationship with her aunt - something all three of them acknowledged but tried not to be weirded out by - notwithstanding, Steve had almost zero experience with women.

Sharon also knew the merits of waiting, having been through the regret of giving her virginity to a boy in college who had not deserved it - or her. She didn't want to rush their relationship, knowing in her heart that it would be worth the wait, but that didn't mean that she didn't deal with an unhealthy dose of sexual frustration.

Feeling the rising heat of that frustration, Sharon pumped the volume on her metal playlist and chose the winding track Sam had chalked out on the floor. She looped around the sparring mat, past the free weights and machines, up the stairs to the elliptical and treadmill, back down and behind the parking level where her car and Steve's bike sat next to the cargo van they sometimes used, back toward the warm up mat and elevator.

Pushing herself, pouring the pent-up sexual energy into her run, she felt the sweat dripping down the sides of her face, her back, and pulled off her loose-fitting tank top and tossed it on the mat as she passed.

As she entered her fifteenth lap - equivalent to nearly two miles - the gentle ping of the elevator drew her attention as Steve stepped off, dressed in snug jeans and a tee-shirt that stretched across his manly torso, carrying his leather jacket over his shoulder.

The flame of desire she'd been trying to douse with sweat flickered back to life even as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. Sharon wiped the sweat out of her eyes and wished she hadn't discarded the tank, hadn't lost track of time. She'd intended to be done and back upstairs by the time Steve came down to leave for his first appointment.

She didn't even mind that he was going to see her sweaty, panting, with her hair a sticky mess, her shorts and sports bra soaked with perspiration and her face splotchy from exertion. No, the only thing she was worried about were the scars on her stomach, the crude Hydra logo carved into her flesh by the psychopath who'd attacked her last fall.

Her father told her she could get them removed, had gone so far as to refer her to a colleague in his practice, but she'd convinced herself it was unnecessary and vain and something she should just accept.

But she wasn't quite there yet.

She met up with Steve behind his bike, bracing her hands on her knees and panting a bit when she stopped.

"Good workout?" he asked, draping his jacket over the handlebars.

"You could say that," she said between breaths. "I got kind of caught up."

"Looks like it," he agreed, lifting his hand to cup her cheek as he so often did.

She jerked out of reach. "Steve, I'm gross. You don't want to touch me right now."

"Shows what you know," he said, smiling. He gave her a soft kiss on the lips, picked up his jacket and put it on as climbed onto his bike. "I'll see you later."

"Dinner in my apartment at six tonight," she reminded him. "You promised to bring dessert."

"Wouldn't miss it." He smiled, turning over the engine and waving as he pulled away.

She waved at his back, watching as the garage door opened for him and closed after. She looked at the clock over the door and realized it was even later than she'd thought, grabbed her gear and headed upstairs.

* * *

><p>Since she was behind schedule, Sharon skipped her cool down and went right up to her apartment to shower and then down to her office in the second floor "command center."<p>

She had a lot to do before dinner tonight, planning to the unsuspecting Steve with a special meal and surprise to mark six months of officially being a couple. She didn't think he'd realized the significance of the date and it was one of the few times she purposely left a reminder off of his calendar.

Before she focused on her dinner plans, however, she had work to take care of first and that meant tackling the mundane Monday duties she considered the office management portion of her job. She returned calls that had held while she was gone for the reunion, ordered supplies, scheduled maintenance, reviewed invoices and paid bills and made a call to take care of Steve's unwanted magazine subscription.

According to the friendly customer service representative, this type of thing happened often and, rather than canceling the subscription altogether, Sharon was able to transfer it to a Martha Stewart magazine she figured Steve would enjoy more. When he'd been first adjusting to the twenty-first century, he'd watched a lot of Martha's show and had not only learned to cook but fold napkins, dry and use fresh herbs, make his own fabric softener and create a centerpiece out of everyday household items.

At eleven, she swiped one of Bucky's Pop-Tarts from the cupboard and ate it cold at her desk as she reviewed the surveillance projects she'd initiated. Most of them were long shots - monitoring old SHIELD accounts that had remained mysteriously open, watching former safe houses and keeping tabs on a dozen or so Hydra agents who'd been arrested in the chaos that followed the fall of the Triskelion - but any one of them could yield a fruitful lead if you knew what you were looking for.

And Sharon did.

Several of their team's missions had come from those long shots, which is what kept the tedious task of going through each line of data from becoming, well, tedious.

A few things stood out enough that she made note to follow up on them through contacts she'd maintained from her time as a SHIELD analyst and, in the case of the bank accounts, set up an alert on her phone if there was activity.

With a little luck, she might have new assignments for Bucky and Sam when they got back from Italy.

* * *

><p>Once Sharon finished up her office tasks, she made up for lost time by filling the backseat of her car with groceries and other supplies.<p>

Sharon made her last stop in front of the art store she'd learned about a few weeks ago near Dupont Circle. She looked at her watch, winced a bit at the time, and hoped the clerk she'd talked to last week had everything ready for her.

A quaint antique bell chimed as she pushed the door open and the smell of various mediums greeted her nostrils. She hadn't had a chance to check out the store in person before now and would have liked to look around but didn't have the time.

Instead, she headed straight to the counter and asked for the name of the woman she'd spoken to.

After a moment, a middle-aged woman with bright steaks of blue and pink in her pale hair and a name tag with "Meg" printed on it came toward the front of the store.

"You must be Sharon," she greeted. "I've got everything you wanted already boxed up right here. You said the set was a gift so I took the liberty of wrapping it at no extra charge."

"That's great, thank you," Sharon said, grateful that she had one less thing to do when she got back to HQ. She pulled her credit card out of her wallet and handed it to Meg, admiring the clean lines of the brightly colored wrapping paper.

As she ran card, Sharon glanced around the store and admired the bright colors and samples that adorned the walls as well as the mix of children's and professional art supplies. She would definitely make a point of coming back in when she didn't have to keep it a secret from Steve. If he liked his present tonight, she hoped they could come back together, maybe even taken one of the classes she saw advertised on the bulletin at the front of the store.

Taking note of the upcoming offerings, she felt her blood run cold at the sight of a familiar dark head of hair that moved past the front window.

"Sharon? Sharon are you alright?" Meg called out as Sharon bolted for the door, pushing it open and searching down the street for any sign of the man she thought she'd seen.

"Sharon?"

Sharon blinked, turning back to the clerk who'd followed her out. "I'm sorry. I thought I saw someone..."

"Not a good someone from the looks of it," Meg said, putting an arm around Sharon and guiding her back inside. "Are you okay? Do you want to sit? Or some water?"

"No, no. I'm fine," Sharon assured her, trying to reassure herself. "Thank you...for everything." She grabbed her credit card and receipt off the counter and picked up the picked up the wrapped gift. Tonight was a special night and she forced all thoughts of Brock Rumlow - the man who'd attacked and left her scarred - out of her mind as she headed for the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

By the time Sharon got back to her apartment, she was back on schedule with only good thoughts about the evening she'd planned back in her head.

After putting her groceries away, she lit a few scented candles and turned the radio on low as she cubed and sliced vegetables for the salad and sides she'd planned.

Perhaps the best part about the turn her life had taken was that she finally had the opportunity to cook, something she'd always enjoyed but never had the time to do when leading the double life of a SHIELD agent. Now, with two bottomless super soldier appetites - and Sam - she not only had the opportunity to cook but gluttons willing to eat the new recipes she found online or saw on one of the cooking shows Steve still enjoyed watching.

By the time Steve knocked on the door at six, Sharon had changed her clothes and applied makeup, switched the music to light jazz, set the table with two bowls of salad, had the vegetable medley warming in the oven and two fat tuna steaks simmering on the stovetop.

As Steve stepped into the kitchen, setting the bakery box he'd precariously carried on his bike onto the counter and giving Sharon a soft kiss on the cheek, he couldn't help the warm feeling the moment gave him. He knew better than to admit how much the sight of his girl in the kitchen, with the smell of the home-cooked meal in the air after a long day's work, felt like "home" to him. From everything he'd read since waking up in the twenty-first century, those thoughts were outdated, chauvinistic and unappreciated by today's woman.

But that didn't stop the nostalgia that spread through him as he lived the image he'd always envisioned for his future.

"Smells good," he said, swiping a loose cucumber slice off the cutting board and popping it into his mouth.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells," she admitted. "I figure with your iron stomach I can get away with untried recipes."

"It's not the first time I've been someone's guinea pig." He grabbed another cucumber slice and leaned back against the counter, watching her work. "Anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "Everything's taken care of and on schedule. You just have to stand there and look handsome."

"I'll do my best." He smiled, looking around the apartment. The cozy atmosphere she'd created wasn't lost on him and he admired the subdued lighting, music and flickering candles.

"Why do I feel like dinner tonight's not just about dinner?" he asked, gesturing out toward the rest of her apartment.

"Oh?" she asked.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with our first date being six months ago, would it?"

"It might be..." Sharon said, pointing at him with the spatula she'd had in hand to turn the steaks. "I didn't think you remembered."

"I remember the important things," he said, stepping forward and avoiding the spatula as he put his arms around her waist. "Like pie and coffee in a practically empty diner with a beautiful woman."

He lowered his lips to hers and she turned into the embrace and returned the kiss.

"You're going to make me burn dinner," she said against his lips.

"If I wasn't starving, I'd say let it burn," he said, kissing her a once more before letting go of her.

She pointed the spatula at him again. "Save it for dessert, pal."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "One appetite at a time."

Steve helped her carry the tuna steaks and vegetables to the table and they enjoyed the casual conversation about their respective days as they ate.

As they finished dinner, Sharon asked, "Do you want dessert now...or your gift?"

"I get a gift?"

"Of course you do," she said, walking into her bedroom and returning with the a brightly wrapped box. She set it on the table in front of him. "Go ahead. Open it."

Rather than tear into the gift, Steve carefully slid his fingers along the seems and pulled the tape away neatly to preserve the paper. She waited patiently, knowing from his birthday party a few months back that he only went slower if you tried to rush him.

Finally, he pulled the lid of the box up and revealed the collection of goodies inside. When he just stared, Sharon's heart sank a little as she worried that he didn't like it.

"They're art supplies," she explained. "Aunt Peggy mentioned that you used to draw in your downtime during the war. The woman at the shop picked out most of it for me. There are colored pencils and charcoal sticks to go with the sketch pads and paper. And I thought you might like to branch out so there's an acrylic starter set and brushes and a few canvases if you want to paint..."

She trailed off as he looked up from the boxes contents at her.

"Do you like it?" she asked, not sure what his silence meant.

"Sharon, this is..." when words failed him, he slowly drew her to him, lowering her gently onto his lap as he caressed her cheek and kissed her deeply. He couldn't believe the trouble she'd gone through that night, the planning of the evening and the thoughtfulness of the gift.

Not knowing what to say, he poured his feelings into the kiss, his hands making long strokes up and down her back as she clung to him.

The overheard words at her parents house haunted him. No wonder Sharon doubted how much she meant to him, how deeply he cared for her. While he'd known about the importance of the night, he hadn't thought about anything so elaborate to convey his feelings for her. The action figure he'd purchased - similar to the one she'd teased him with during their first date - was a cheap token compared to the gift she'd given him. She hadn't just given him a box of art supplies, Sharon had once again returned a small part of his old life to him. He hadn't so much as doodled since 1945 - not for any conscious reason, he just hadn't. That part of him had just been frozen in the past.

Until now.

He wanted to tell her how he felt, what having her in his life - and his heart - meant. He just didn't know how. He'd watched, read and learned enough in the twenty-first century to know that the "L"-word was given out far more frequently than it had been in his time. People used it to describe their feelings for their phones, cars, fast food...Compared to what Steve felt for Sharon, love by the current definition paled in comparison to what he felt for Sharon.

So how could her tell her how he felt? How could he show her that she was the most important person in the world to him? That his life was richer for having her in it? How could he tell her that she completed him in a way he'd worried was impossible?

Since he couldn't find the words, he continued to hold her, to use his hands and lips to demonstrate his feelings - his need - for Sharon. Finally, slowly, she pulled away, more than a little breathless. Giving him a tentative smile, she said, "I guess that means you liked it."

He swallowed the well of emotion he was feeling, tamping it down until he knew what to do with it, and simply said, "I love it."

Sharon's smile widened. "I'm glad. Let's have dessert and then you can play with your new toys while I clean up the kitchen."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Sharon awoke disoriented just before dawn and it took her a couple of seconds to realize she was on the couch - Steve's couch. After a moment, she remembered that they'd moved from her apartment after dinner and presents last night to his apartment to watch a movie. She must have fallen asleep, which wasn't particularly unusual. She was used to either waking up in Steve's living room with a blanket draped over her or alone in Steve's bed while he opted to take the couch. As a rule, even when they slept over at the other's place, they never actually slept together.

_Until now, apparently_, she thought as her eyes met the face of the still-slumbering Steve before her. He was stretched out, his head pillowed on his arm as she lay facing him and his other arm resting on her hip.

Her surprise was pleasant as she studied him in the first rays of the morning sun. His face was relaxed in sleep, his long lashes fanning his cheek and a faint whistle passing his slightly parted lips as he breathed deeply. He looked so peaceful - and so sexy - that she couldn't help the warmth that spread through her.

She sighed, breathing in the scent of him, and wondered what she could have ever done to deserve him. How many women, outside of romance novels, were lucky enough to end up with the man of their dreams?

When she was young, Sharon had created her ideal man based on her aunt's stories of Captain America. In adulthood, she'd realized no man would ever come close to the one in her imagination and she had accepted that she would have to eventually lower her standards if she was ever going to find a mate. Not even when Captain America was discovered and revived after seventy years in the Antarctic ice did she ever think that the man of her dreams would ever actually be hers.

But, here she was, completely in love with the sleeping man before her and wishing - so hard her heart ached with it - that he'd love her in return. She knew he cared deeply for her, knew she meant a lot to him, but she longed to hear the words from his full, perfect lips.

She stared at those lips now and, after a moment of hesitation, gave into temptation.

She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his and slowly tracing the contours of his mouth. She could spend, and had, hours kissing those lips, running her fingers through his hair and imagining what it would be like to go beyond the gentle caresses and breathless kisses.

Though Sharon loved kissing Steve, being kissed and held by him in return, she couldn't help that she wanted more. She tried to be patient, to understand that he was raised in a different time, but it was just so hard to want and to wait when he was right there and she was so willing.

She caressed his cheek, continuing her attention to his lips, and felt the hand resting on her hip move, pulling her closer as Steve himself deepened the kiss.

Well this is a nice, she thought, returning his probing kiss as he held her to him. She ran her hands down his torso, up his arms and back to caress his chest, thrilling at the passion with which he was kissing her.

His mouth left hers and she nearly protested aloud until she realized it was to trail kisses along her jaw, her neck. She sighed with pleasure, enjoying this new and exploratory maneuver. _Maybe our six month anniversary means they we're finally moving past second base into third_, she mused.

No sooner did she think that than Steve shifted, rolling them so that his body covered hers as he continued kissing her neck and surprised her further when his hand found its way under her sleep shirt — a move he'd definitely never done before — and cupped one of her breasts.

Unable to help herself, Sharon moaned, and her fingers gripped his hair as her mouth sought his again. She shifted her hips beneath his, felt his growing interest in their current activity and wondered if they were going to blow past third base and head straight for home.

"Oh Steve..." she breathed between kisses and arched her back, pressing herself to him. "Steve, I love..."

No sooner had the words formed on her lips than she felt him still and pull away.

"Sharon?" Steve asked, blinking and disoriented. He looked down at her, saw her swollen and bruised lips, realized his hand was under her shirt and slowly withdrew it.

"I didn't...I'm sorry..." He sat up, distancing himself from her, as he slowly shook his head and looked way. "I must have been dreaming, I didn't mean to..."

_Didn't mean to make love to your girlfriend_, she finished for him, as she sat up, tugged the hem of her shirt back down and unable to help the hurt and embarrassment she felt.

She should have known, even in her own enthusiasm, she should have known it was a too good to be true.

"I should go," Sharon said, pushing herself up onto unsteady legs. The heat of only moments before was gone and, in its place, a cold chill took hold. She looked toward the door, prayed she could escape through it before she broke down. She looked back at him, saw the apology on his face, and felt her lip quiver. She bit down, hard, to steady herself and repeated, "I have to go."

Giving him no time to respond or react, Sharon practically sprinted for the door. She heard Steve call her name but ignored him as she rushed out and down the hall to her own apartment.

As the door shut hard behind her, she did run, not stopping until she'd raced down her own hallway, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Knowing Steve couldn't help his sensitive hearing, she turned the shower on high and, when she was sure the pounding of the water was enough to mask the sounds, she collapsed to the tile floor and let the sobs come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Steve sat on the couch, staring at the door with his brain still foggy from sleep and the too-real dream he'd been having. The dream that hadn't been a dream; the one that still had his hand tingling where he'd touched Sharon's bare flesh, still had his lips warm from their kisses and still had - other things - remembering the feel of her against him.

He took a breath, sorting the jumble of thoughts in his head. They'd watched a movie on the couch last night, after coming into his apartment to put the art supplies away. It was a biopic he'd been wanting to see and Sharon had fallen asleep about half-way through. He'd finished the movie with every intention of moving Sharon to his bed so she'd be more comfortable but she'd seemed comfortable enough laying there with him and he, selfishly, had enjoyed the feel of her asleep in his arms.

He must have dozed off and then, as he did most nights, he'd dreamt of her; dreamt of the things he longed to do.

_It isn't like I can control my dreams_, he justified. He had a difficult enough time holding himself back when he and Sharon made out, to keep himself from crossing a line with a woman he respected and cared for deeply.

He shook his head and stood, the last bit of fog finally clearing.

After last night, he'd vowed to show Sharon what she meant to him, how much he cared for her. The look on her face when she'd run from his apartment made it obvious that he was already failing miserably in his endeavor.

Determined, Steve strode down the hall, knocked lightly on Sharon's door and listened for a response. When he didn't hear one, he knocked harder and pressed his ear to the door, the sound of the shower the only sound in her apartment.

He hesitated. They needed to talk, had needed to talk for a while, but he didn't know if forcing his way into Sharon's apartment was the best start. However, waiting for a "good time" to discuss their relationship hadn't done him any favors, either, and he didn't know if they could afford to wait any longer.

Deciding their relationship was more important than manners, he tried the handle with every intention of grabbing his copy of her apartment key if it was locked.

But the door opened easily and he called her name as he entered. He heard the water shut off and called her name again, walking cautiously down the hallway toward her bedroom.

He turned at the end of the hall and saw Sharon standing at the foot of the bed, the steam billowing out from the open bathroom door behind her. She was still in the pajamas he'd just seen her in, her clothes and hair dry. Her eyes were red from the tears he knew he'd caused and he hated that he had that power. Sharon was a strong woman, came from a long line of strong women, and his thoughtless words and actions had caused her tears on more than one occasion.

It wouldn't be much of a relationship if we didn't care enough to have our feelings hurt by the other, she'd told him before when he'd inadvertently done just that. It didn't do much to assuage the guilt he felt or make him feel like less of an emotional oaf - and it didn't offer him any solutions for removing the look of hurt from Sharon's eyes.

"I know you hate when I say 'I'm sorry' but I am," Steve said, stepping cautiously into the room. "I'm sorry I was out of line this morning. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

She gave him a weak smile. "You weren't out of line, Steve. I just don't think you and I are on the same page about this relationship or, if this morning was any indication, we might not even be in the same book."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're upset that you took advantage of me and I'm upset that you stopped."

"What?"

"I told you before that you're probably never going to do anything to offend me, Steve. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you. And I want a lot more than we've been doing. I've tried to be patient, tried to respect that you were two decades too early for the sexual revolution. But I grew up in a very sexually aware time and I'm starting to think that maybe it's not that you're not ready, it's that you don't want me."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I think anything else? We've been a couple for six months, Steve, and I can't even get you to take your shirt off in front of me."

He sighed. "I can take my clothes off for you right now, if you want. I want you, Sharon. Every morning. Every night. Every day. That's why I'm careful about how much we touch, why I try to stay in control. Otherwise, with you I wouldn't be able to help myself from doing what I almost did this morning."

"And what was that?"

"This."

He must have moved at super soldier speed because Sharon went from sitting on the edge of the bed to suddenly laid out in the middle of the mattress with Steve stretched out over her. She'd never had any reason to complain about his kisses before, had enjoyed his range of gentle to passionate and all points in between...

But this...she never realized how much he'd been holding back, how he must have restrained himself and she thrilled at the intensity of his mouth on hers. And it wasn't just his mouth, his hands were all over her as well, caressing and exploring as he never had before.

"Tell me when to stop," he whispered as he again trailed his lips down her neck.

"Never," she panted as he pushed her sleep tank up, trailing kisses back up her torso as he slowly removed it and tossed it aside.

Exposed from the waist up, she watched his eyes darken as he took in the sight of her. His gaze more powerful than any words he could have expressed, she reached up and pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside as well. She arched up, flesh meeting flesh, and matched his fiery kiss with her own.

His hands wandered lower with determination and she gasped into his mouth when he honed in on target. Where this side of him had been, she did not know, but she had a difficult time keeping up with everything he made her feel. Her soft moans became strangled cries, then whimpers and finally muffled screams as he continued to demonstrate his feelings for her.

When he was finished with his ministrations, she lay back as limp as an overcooked noodle.

He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her, a slow smile spread across his handsome face. "I guess I did that right."

"Where..? How..?" she asked, still a bit dazed as she stared up at him.

"I did some studying," he confessed. "I wanted to make sure I was prepared when the time came."

His ears had reddened with embarrassment but Sharon was too weak to tease. Instead, a wave of emotion washed over her, too powerful to ignore this time.

"I love you, Steve," she said, her voice hoarse and breathless.

He kissed her in response, slow and gentle. Though he didn't say the words, Sharon's heart swelled just the same because there was no way he could have looked at her, shared with her what they'd just shared, if he didn't love her, too.

"I think we're on the same page now," she said, smiling in contentment.

He kissed her forehead. "We've got a couple of hours until those computer techs arrive. What would you like to do?"

"You," she said, her smile widening. "But after a nap. You wore me out, Captain Rogers."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's patiently waited for an update to this story. A seemingly unending series of events have kept me away but hopefully we're back on track to finish by the end of the year. As penance, I've also provided a short, fluffy, post-Thanksgiving story that takes place in the days that follow the end of "Lost, Found and Somewhere Between."

**Chapter Seven**

When Sam joined the army straight out of college, it was his chance to see the world but it wasn't until after he'd completed two tours and managed the central DC veterans affairs office that he finally did it in style.

He didn't know exactly what bargain Sharon had struck with Stark Industries but he was getting used to having a private jet at his disposal - at least when it came to missions when he was paired with Bucky. The former Soviet assassin would never make it past TSA with his metal arm and the resulting delay would give someone from airport security time to recognize him as the Winter Soldier.

So, it was better all around that he and Bucky flew in the lap of luxury aboard one of the jets Tony Stark himself no doubt used - when he wasn't flying under the power of one of his own Iron Man suits.

What Sam wouldn't give to fly under his own power again...but, sadly, the Falcon wings had been damaged beyond repair during the fall of the Triskelion by none other than Bucky himself. He couldn't really even be mad at his teammate - the Bucky Barnes who fought alongside Captain America and Falcon today wasn't the same one who'd tried to kill both of them eight months ago when SHIELD was brought down by Hydra.

Since then, Sam, Steve and Bucky had been diffusing rogue Hydra threats around the globe.  
>In this case, Sam and Bucky were working directly with the <em>Polizia di Stato<em>, the Italian state police, to follow up on suspicious activity they had come to believe had ties to Hydra.

When they arrived at the station, Sam was glad Sharon's contact spoke English and didn't seem to mind that Sam's Italian vocabulary was pretty much limited to what he'd learned off the Olive Garden menu.

If the rest of his squad had already been briefed in Italian, they didn't seem to mind hearing it again for the ignorant American.

"We believe Hydra agents have taken over this farm, here, beyond the river," Lieutenant Palestrina said as he pointed to a location on the large map in his station's conference area. "It has been in foreclosure for some time but recent patrols have seen increased motor traffic out that way and, despite there being no record of the utilities being reactivated, it appears to have running power."

"And what makes you think it's Hydra?" Sam asked.

"The increase in activity was shortly after the discovery of Hydra agents hidden within the SHIELD and at least two individuals have been identified from the watch list your Miss Carter provided."

Sam nodded, listening as Palestrina outlined their plan of attack. As far as he could tell, the lieutenant and his team - including a well-mannered German Shepherd Bucky had immediately bonded with - had the situation well in hand. It didn't really seem like he and Bucky were needed but Sam was glad to cooperate in the interest of establishing good relations for future missions.

Later, even as they approached the compound, both Sam and Bucky were content to follow the lead of Palestrina and his men as they slowly advanced upon the foreclosed farmhouse.

Sam crouched low, wishing he could better understand the orders and responses given by the rest of the team. Despite the language barrier, he was pretty sure he'd know when he was needed but so far the entire endeavor had run smoothly...

And he regretted the thought immediately because barely a beat later he heard gunfire and shouts from inside the barn.

Changing direction, Sam ran behind the house toward the unlit outbuilding and didn't move quickly enough to avoid the large human-shaped object that came hurtling out through the open door at him.

His night-vision goggles flew as he fell under the unidentified man's weight and, in the time it took his eyes to adjust, two more bodies crashed through the wall, locked in combat.

He recognized Bucky in the dark, wresting with an unknown but presumably hostile assailant and wondered how Palestrina's team was faring in the house.

By the time he finally freed himself to lend Bucky assistance, not that the soldier needed any, a flurry of rapid Italian crackled out of his radio.

"Sounds like more trouble," Sam said, "We should get to the house, see what they found."

"There's no one up there," Bucky said, toying with his opponent as he divided his attention between fending off blows and talking to Sam.

"How do you know that?"

Bucky pointed at the radio clipped to Sam's belt, then used that hand to deliver a final blow that dropped the second man next to the first.

"You speak Italian? Why didn't you say so?"

"Just because I know the language doesn't mean I want to speak to anyone." He knelt over the two unconscious forms, searching their clothing.

"They were sloppy," he observed.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"These men. Criminals but not Hydra. They were surprised by our presence, despite the surveillance equipment inside, and were ill-prepared for hand-to-hand combat. This may have been a Hydra base at one time but there aren't any agents now."

"What about the Hydra agents from Sharon's list?" Sam asked only to be answered by a shrug.

"Don't know. But perhaps these two can answer our questions when they wake up."

* * *

><p>While the police had been open and cooperative when they'd thought they needed Bucky and Sam's help, they very clearly did not want their assistance with any interrogations. Palestrina explained that it was merely to keep the proceedings legal but that didn't make being barred from the interrogation room while the two suspects - the ones Bucky single-handedly caught, by the way - were questioned any less frustrating.<p>

While Sam worked to establish a secure connection so he could report in with Sharon, Bucky seemed content enough to play catch with Sasha the German Shepherd.

Ignoring the rhythmic bounce of the rubber ball and scratch of Sasha's nails against the tile floor, Sam waited for Sharon to answer the encrypted message.

After a moment, Sharon's pretty face appeared on the screen and Sam was slightly surprised to see that Sharon was seated at her kitchen table - and behind her was trained on the jean-clad posterior of his boss and fearless leader.

"Everything okay over there?" he asked.

Sharon's smile was a little too wide as she explained that the technicians from Stark Industries had taken over their command center on the second floor and she was relegated to using her old laptop and kitchen table in the meantime.

"Uh-huh...and what's Steve still doing there? I thought he had that gig at the Smithsonian today."

"Rescheduled," Steve said casually, turning to lean against the counter as he popped an apple slice into his mouth. "I had some things to take care of this morning."

If they were a normal couple, Sam would have had an obvious guess for what that "something to take care of" was based on the smile Sharon couldn't control and Steve's overly relaxed demeanor. But Steve and Sharon were far from a normal couple. Not that they weren't a great couple, but he knew there'd been very little hanky and almost no panky in the six months they'd been together. He didn't judge - not ever when it came to Captain America - but he didn't know how a red-blooded American guy like Steve could be with a woman like Sharon and not be with a woman like Sharon.

Still, the two were acting strangely.

Before he could ask more, Sharon inquired about their opp and he filled both her and Steve in on their raid.

"By the time we finished searching the entire place, there was evidence it may have been a former Hydra base but there wasn't any sign of any Hydra agents," Sam reported.

"Have the men you apprehended said anything about the previous occupants?" Sharon asked.

"If they have, we don't know. Palestrina and his lieutenant have been questioning them but they haven't been forthcoming with anything they've found. Bucky thinks the two goons he caught were common crooks who just happened upon the farmhouse and decided it made a pretty good hideout."

"Where is Bucky?" Sharon asked.

"The squad here has a German Shepherd, their mascot, and Bucky hasn't stopped playing with him since we got back to the station."

Sam tilted the computer so that the dog and Winter Soldier came into view and Sharon and Steve watched from more than four thousand miles away as Bucky bounced a bright blue ball against the side of someone's desk and the dog caught it in mid air only to then carry it back and drop it into Bucky's hand.

The pure joy on Bucky's face as he played with the dog softened Sharon's smile and she brought her grip the one Steve had rested on her shoulder.

Steve's best and oldest friend, Bucky had been brainwashed and used by Hydra as a weapon for seventy years. Over the last six months he had slowly become less of the Winter Solider and more of the James Buchanan Barnes Steve had known since childhood.

Sharon had been a part of Bucky's journey and had come to love him like the brother she'd always wanted but her parents never got around to giving her. They each considered themselves the other's protector and Sharon would do - and had - pretty much anything for him.

Together, they watched the unguarded moment between man and dog.

"We should get Bucky a dog," Sharon announced.

"What?" Sam and Steve both asked.

"I don't know if I've ever seen him so happy, so at ease," Sharon explained. "I think a dog would do him some good."

Steve looked thoughtful. "He does takes a lot of solo missions."

"And he still has a hard time socializing with most people. A pet could do him some good," Sam agreed.

"And I know just who to talk to," Sharon added. "I know someone who places retired police dogs with new owners. I'll look into it."

"And just like that Bucky gets a dog? I guess we know who your favorite is."

"Maybe when you find out what our friends from that farm house know you can be our favorite for a while," Steve said.

"Funny, man." Sam looked down at his watch. "The Stark jet will be back for us tonight so I should have something by the time we take off, either from Palestrina himself or the two guys from the farmhouse."

"Keep us posted," Sharon said.

"I will. And you two enjoy your morning off," Sam shot back a second before he closed to connection. "Those two were definitely up to something before I called," he said to himself. He was looking forward to teasing the details out of them when they got back to DC. In the meantime, he had more pressing intel to gather.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

After Steve left for his afternoon appointments and Sharon made inquiries about finding a dog for Bucky, she took the stairs down to the second floor command center.

Their base of operations didn't really compare with any of the SHIELD command centers she'd worked in, being two desks outfitted with phones and computers, a television, conference table and kitchenette, but It had served their purposes when they'd started four months ago. Now, the success of their small team had earned them an upgrade - which the pair of Stark technicians were evaluating.

"How's it going?" she asked a pair of legs that were sticking out from under the desk Sam and Bucky shared but really only Sam ever used.

"Miss Carter, you're just in time," the legs answered with a slight shaking of a sneakered foot in greeting. "We went ahead and updated your current systems since it'll be a couple more weeks before we can install the full upgrade. I hope you're going to like what we've got in mind."

"I'm sure anything will be an improvement over what we've got," she admitted.

The legs inched out from under the desk to reveal Rudy, the red-headed tech she'd greeted that morning. "Then you're gonna love what we've come up with. New computers and a couple of monitors in here to start, PDAs and comms for each of you, a biometric security system with panels in every room and a direct link to the Stark satellite network."

"That sounds like a lot more than I'd expected. I thought we were just getting a couple of new computers and an upgrade to the security system we've already got."

"Not according to Mr. Stark," said Oscar, the other tech who must have been down in the basement if the cobwebs sticking to his mess of curly hair was any indication. "The biometrics are new and he wants your building to have them before anywhere else."

"That's very generous of him," she said, unable to hide her surprise. The original offer for the upgrades had come from Pepper Potts and Sharon wondered when Mr. Stark had decided to step in. "How long will all of this take?"

Rudy and Oscar shared a look, communicating telepathically as far as Sharon could tell. Finally, Oscar said, "We've already upgraded your connections so we can get you hooked to the Stark network today."

"And we can install the panels and sensors tomorrow," supplied Rudy.

"Install the new server Thursday," Oscar added.

Rudy nodded. "Set up the new computers, PDAs and comms Friday."

"And link everything to the network on Saturday," Oscar finished.

"Less than a week," Rudy answered. "As long as you don't mind us intruding on your weekend."

Considering their proposed timetable was a third of the original, Sharon didn't mind giving up a Saturday.

"That sounds great," she said. "You just let us know what we need to do and we'll be ready for you."

Oscar immediately started telling her about back-ups and securing documents before they went on the Stark network as he escorted Sharon downstairs to show her where he wanted to install the new servers. Though she considered herself pretty computer savvy, he did manage to lose her a couple of times and she had to ask him to repeat himself, which he was more than happy to do.

After the techs left, Sharon changed into a pair of jeans, sneakers and long-sleeve Maryland Terrapins shirt and baseball cap for her meeting with a former SHIELD contact to follow up on one of her financial leads from the day before.

Parking near campus, Sharon grabbed a backpack from her trunk and slung it over her shoulder. She took her time, wanting to catch her contact toward the end of his office hours. While he taught accounting now, he'd been a SHIELD financial analyst before he retired to academia. Sharon hoped he could make better sense of the data she'd collected and, with luck, they'd be able to follow the money trail and take down a larger portion of Hydra than the one or two cells they'd managed to disband at a time so far.

When she reached his office, she knocked lightly on the door. "Professor Benedict?"

"Ah, Sherrie," he greeted, addressing Sharon by the less-than-imaginative SHIELD cover name. "You caught me just in time. I was about to close up early and go bowling with some of the other faculty."

"I won't keep you long, Professor," Sharon said, maintaining the cover until she shut the door. "I was hoping you could look into these for me?"

Benedict took the sheet Sharon handed him. "What are these, exactly?"

"A series of transactions from a SHIELD account that was closed after the fall of the Triskelion. There isn't a SHIELD anymore so I have to assume that anyone accessing that money is actually Hydra. The money is draw from a different source, different continent, each time and bounces through at least a dozen banks before the trail turns cold. I thought you might have better luck tracking the origin."

"That I may," he murmured, looking over the list of transactions. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you asking about this. As you said, there is no more SHIELD. How do I know you aren't Hydra? Or how do you know that I'm not?"

"If you were Hydra, you wouldn't be teaching accounting at a state-funded school. And if I was Hydra, why would I need to track down an account we were using?"

"Fair points," he said after studying her a moment. "I'll see what I can do and contact you at the usual address."

"Thank you," Sharon said and opened the door to leave. "Good luck bowling tonight."

"And good luck fishing, my dear. I think you'll need it more than I do."

Sharon only smiled and made her way out the back of the building and took the long way around to get to her car.

Since it was still early, she indulged in a frozen coffee from a street vendor and had just enjoyed the first sip when her blood chilled to the same temperature as her drink.

There, across the street, wearing a black-billed ball cap and reading the newspaper was Brock Rumlow. He seemed focused on his paper, as casual as could be, and Sharon forced herself to be just as casual as she took another sip of her drink walked to her car.

She didn't risk another glance until she was securely inside the vehicle but she was sure - so sure - it was Rumlow, the same man who'd attacked her six months ago. If it was, that meant he really had been outside of the art supply store yesterday.

_What the hell is he playing at?_ she wondered. She turned to put her seatbelt on, using the movement to risk taking another look - only to see that he was already gone. She looked frantically up and down the street, then realized that if it was him she wasn't doing herself any favors by signally that she'd seen him.

She needed to tell the team but couldn't quite bring herself to call Steve like she knew she should. Sam, Bucky and Steve had been kind of unbearable in those first few months after she was injured, Steve going so far as to actually carry her up and down the stairs for the first week until she was cleared for physical therapy.

Even after she was back to her fighting strength - more than, with Steve's super blood flowing through her veins - the three of them had done a lousy job of pretending not to dog her every step, of making sure one of them was always at the warehouse with her.

Sharon didn't know if she could go back to that level of smothering, not on a few sightings she couldn't even prove to herself. She'd just be more vigilant and, if she saw Rumlow again, she'd tell Steve and face the consequences.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

On Wednesday, despite the fact that it had been her idea, Maria Hill would have rather been most anywhere else than dress shopping with Sharon Carter.

It wasn't Sharon's fault, Maria admitted. It was one-hundred percent her.

As a rule, she didn't have many girlfriends. Or any, really. And she had very little interest in shopping. Or, again, any.

She knew, from her sisters and mother, that she should care more about that sort of thing but she just didn't have the energy. She was too busy defending her country and saving the world for that kind of nonsense.

Yet, for the sake of her little sister's wedding, here she was with a pile of dresses Sharon insisted "flattered her build" or "worked with her coloring" - whatever the hell that meant - and every time she stepped out of the changing room there was another dress to try on.

It was exhausting.

Their meeting at Team America HQ - damn Tony Stark for getting that nickname stuck in her head - earlier had been not only productive but an opportunity for Maria to see Sharon at work since the fall of Triskelion. Maria had been just as surprised as Pepper when the former SHIELD agent and grand-niece of the agency's founder had contacted Stark Industries with a plan to not only get Captain America into the field to actively defuse Hydra threats but develop and maintain a support team so the super soldier could do just that.

The proposal had been solid, the need warranted, and Maria had told Pepper just that and paid only passing attention to the outfit's activities over the last four months.

Going into their meeting that morning, Maria had done her homework. Captain Rogers she was already familiar with, having worked with him in New York. Sharon she was less familiar with, knowing only that she had come out of the SHIELD Academy older than most of her classmates with three years of medical school under her belt.

Their meeting today had been her first time seeing the Team America operation in person and she found herself impressed with both the set-up and Sharon herself. It was a shame she hadn't had an opportunity to work directly with the young agent during their SHIELD days but, and Maria was the first to admit it, she rarely had time for anyone below a Level 7. It wasn't that she didn't care for the agents serving under her, she literally just didn't have the time.

She'd been surprised - and it happened rarely - by Sharon's professionalism and insights. Maria nearly regretted that the meeting hadn't included Rogers, Barnes and Wilson as she would have liked to have seen how Sharon dealt with their strong male personalities. From everything she'd heard, the three respected Sharon's contribution to the team and, according to Pepper, while Steve Rogers was the obvious captain of the team, Sharon was indispensable as both coach and manager.

The business-focused former SHIELD agent who had earned Maria's hard-fought respect that morning, however, seemed to have disappeared in the sea of silk, tulle, sequins and lace.

Since Maria could really care less what she wore for the damn wedding, as long as she didn't look stupid in some uncomfortable get-up (which was part of why she hadn't just asked Pepper for help), she let Sharon take the lead and kept her protests to a minimum.

"I know you don't think you're having fun," Sharon said as she handed another gown over the dressing room door. "But I'm having a blast. You're like having a life-size Barbie doll. My very own Crabby Combat Barbie."

While Maria didn't think she really resembled a Barbie doll, she could get behind the idea of Combat Barbie. As long as she wore sensible boots and not heels.

She said as much aloud to Sharon, who responded, "Unfortunately, if they make a Combat Barbie, she's not only in heels but can't fire her gun because her boobs are in the way."

"Typical objectification of unrealistic female ideals," Maria muttered.

"If it makes you feel any better," Sharon said, handing yet another dress to Maria, "Steve feels the same way about some of his action figures. If you ever wanted to make Captain America blush..."

Sharon trailed off as Maria stepped out in the latest garment. "That's perfect."

"You've said that about four of them already."

Sharon shook her head, eying the tasteful strapless in midnight blue with a subtle sheen on its full-length skirt. "No, I mean it this time. The cut, the color, even the hem's going to be perfect with the right shoes."

"Oh no..."

"Yes. We're going shoe shopping after this."

"Why?" she practically whined.

"Because Pepper told me to make sure you had everything you need - and she gave me a Stark account to put it all on."

Maria knew better than to argue with Pepper and, by extension, Sharon so she simply returned to the dressing room to put her suit back on while Sharon took the dress up to pay.

The dress ordeal took two hours - twice as long as their meeting to discuss things that mattered - and included another hour of shopping for jewelry, shoes and a tiny purse she would never use again.

Seated in the back of the limousine, she eyed the pile of purchases and wondered how one event could have cost so much in time, money and energy.

Sharon had her own small bag from the jewelry store, a pair of cufflinks she bought for Rogers. It seemed an unusual gift for a work colleague but, considering they were fashioned to look like Captain America's shield, Maria figured they fit the recipient.

She sighed, looking forward to the giant steak she was going to order from room service as soon as she got to her hotel room. With any luck, she could work off the steak before the pool closed and not talk to anyone until tomorrow when she promised to help her mother and sisters with more wedding nonsense she didn't really understand.

Maria turned her attention to Sharon as the younger woman finished the phone call she'd been on.

"You're all set for Saturday with my stylist at 2:00 for hair and makeup," she reported "Anything else I can help you with?"

Maria thought about it, raising an eyebrow wryly. "If guess if you've got a man to keep my mom and sisters off my back, I'd take one. Someone other than Captain Rogers."

A look Maria couldn't read crossed Sharon's face. "I might have someone in mind." She pulled her phone back out and did some one-handed searching. After a moment she said, "It looks like Sam's schedule is open this weekend."

"Wilson?" Maria asked, her interest piqued as she thought about the former pararescueman and Sharon's current teammate. "How does he look in a tux?"

"About as good as he looks in everything." Sharon gave a slight shrug. "Which is very, by the way."

"I hadn't actually planned to take anyone with me but I might be less likely to kill someone if my family thinks I have a social life."

"I'll check with Sam and get back to you tonight," Sharon promised as the limo pulled up in front of the former Stark warehouse.

Maria nodded and, just as Sharon was about to shut the car door, called out "Thank you, Sharon. Really."

"It was my pleasure, Maria. I had fun. Hopefully you did, too."

Maria was about to protest but closed her mouth as she thought about it. Tired as she was, crabby as she'd felt, she had to admit that the outing hadn't been nearly as terrible as she'd thought it would be.

"I did have fun," she admitted, surprising herself nearly as much as she did Sharon. "In fact," she continued, unable to stop herself, "Would you like to grab dinner with me? I was just going to get room service at my hotel."

Sharon smiled at the invitation. "That sounds great," she said, getting back into the car. "If you like Mexican, I know a great place near Capitol Hill."

* * *

><p>Much later than she'd expected, Sharon climbed the stairs from the garage and stepped into the command center after dinner with Maria and was surprised to see Sam siting with his feet propped up on his desk while he flipped through one of Steve's Martha Stewart magazines.<p>

"I assumed you'd be sleeping," Sharon said as she took a seat across from him and set her bag on the desk. "How was your flight?"

"I slept for most of it. Bucky wouldn't shut up about the Sasha the German Shepherd." He eyed the bag. "Anything for me?"

"Not this time, sorry."

He shrugged. "So how was shopping with Commander Hill?"

"Good," she answered. "I think I think she sees the value of what we're doing here, the void we're filling in the absence of SHIELD. And, more importantly, we found her a killer dress. She's gonna be a real knock-out this weekend."

"I don't doubt it," he said, looking back down at his magazine. "I assume your fashion sense and her good looks would be a winning combination."

Sharon smiled slyly. "Wanna be her escort Saturday night and find out for yourself?"

That brought his head back up. "Come again?"

"Do you want to be Maria's date for her sister's wedding on Saturday night? Live entertainment, fancy food and a chance to show off how good you look in a tux?"

"How did pimping me out come up during your girls' day out?"

"It just sort of did." Sharon shrugged. "I think Maria's family puts a lot of pressure on her to be more of a traditional female and having a date would help alleviate some of that, at least for a night."

"She doesn't strike me as a woman who'd bow to that kind of pressure."

"No, she doesn't, but I don't think that means it doesn't get to her. Besides, I think the two of you might have fun. You've got your combat background in common and you're both Wolfsburg fans."

"You think serving our country and German soccer is enough?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. "Just kidding. I've gone out with a lot of women with far less in common."

"So you'll do it?"

"Sure, I'll do it. Do I need to rent a limo and buy a corsage?"

"This isn't prom, Sam." Sharon smiled at the idea. "Maria does have her own limo, though, and will probably pick you up."

He stood, tucking the magazine under his arm. "Just so you know, hot date and fancy food aside, you're gonna owe me for this. I don't know how yet, but it'll be big."

"Considering that Maria's gonna look h-o-t fine on Saturday night, I'm pretty sure you're the one in my debt." As he walked toward the stairs, Sharon called after him."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Up before the sun with Steve, Sharon took a moment to appreciate the stillness of the nation's capital as she rolled up the exercise mat and tossed it in the backseat of her car.

Steve, of course, was already off and running and probably miles into his workout while she'd opted for an abbreviated yoga routine to warm up. Ready to get her heart rate up, she took off at a light jog, knowing that their circular path around the Tidal Basin would have Steve catching up with her eventually.

She'd barely gone just over half of a mile before she heard him coming up behind her, slowing down to match her speed.

"Beautiful morning," he said. "I'm glad you suggested it."

"I'm glad, too, even though you missed the sarcasm when I made the suggestion."

"You're the one who said you regretted eating Mexican two nights this week and wanted to work off the tacos we had last night."

"Going for a run wasn't what I'd had in mind, Rogers."

He gave her a grin. "I guess you'll have to be more specific next time."

"Still," she said, ignoring the bait. "This is nice. It's kind of hard to believe how quiet the city can be, even this early on a Saturday morning. Give it another hour and you won't be able to hear yourself think over the crowds."

"Then you should speed it up if you want to be done with three miles in an hour."

She gave him a look. "Sam's right. You _are_ insufferable when you workout."

"Sam's just an easy target," Steve said and planted a kiss on the top of her ponytailed head. "I'll see you in six minutes."

She watched as he ran ahead, gaining speed. By the time he reached the Jefferson Memorial he was a blur rounding the bank and then out of sight. She couldn't help the thrill she felt watching him in action. You'd think living with him every day, knowing the stories, she'd have gotten used to how amazing he was by now. But she hadn't. He was just as much her hero right now as he'd been most of her life.

It was times like these it was no wonder she was so ridiculously in love with him.

Less than six minutes later, when he caught up to her again in the latter half of her second mile, she couldn't help the wide smile she greeted him with.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head. "Just happy and thinking that you're good for my health."

"Your parents are doctors, they wouldn't approve if I was bad for your health." He gave her another kiss. "See you in another six." And he was off again, much to the surprise of the young group of runners who'd just begun their lap.

"Did you see that?"

"Was that Captain America?"

"Holy crap!"

Sharon played it cool as she ran past them, their pace having slowed in their awe.

She finished her loop of the Basin, reaching the Floral Library where they'd left her car. Steve wasn't there yet and she assumed he'd gotten held up signing autographs or posing for pictures with the tourists and athletes who had begun to fill the area. She was glad that somehow, even in the Congressional witch hunt and media frenzy that followed the fall of SHIELD, Captain America remained the nation's most beloved Avenger.

Since she had time, she took the opportunity to stretch. Reaching her arms skyward, she bent sideways at the waist as she slowly moved her arms to the left, circling down, and back up again. As she was about to do the same to the right, a familiar head of dark hair run past her toward the path she'd just finished.

She didn't freeze like she had when she saw Rumlow near the Maryland campus but Sharon didn't think, either, as she took off after him, sprinting to catch up. She kept her eyes focused on him, dodging moms with jogging strollers, speed walkers and sightseeing tourists. She was gaining on him, not entirely sure what she'd do when she caught up, when she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm.

On pure instinct, born more of panic than any training, she turned and struck out blindly - only to have it caught in the steel grip of a concerned Steve.

He'd nearly been to the car when he'd watched Sharon suddenly bolt back down the route they'd just finished. He'd called for her but she hadn't seemed to hear in her single-minded focus on whatever target she pursued.

Still holding her fisted hand, Steve grabbed Sharon around the waist and moved them both out of the flow of pedestrian traffic.

"Did you see him?" she asked, looking behind her frantically.

"Who?" he asked, his concern mounting. Steve crouched so they were eye level and used his hand to guide her chin gently toward him, drawing her attention back to him. "Who, Sharon?"

"Rumlow."

Steve straightened, drawing her closer to him to shield her body with his own as he scanned the crowd himself.

"Where?"

"On the path." She closed her eyes briefly, squeezing them together as she confessed, "And in Dupont Circle. And in College Park." She looked up at Steve. "Either I'm losing my mind or he's been following me."

Not taking chances in either case, Steve ignored the look of onlookers and swept Sharon into his arms. He didn't give her time to protest before he took off at a run and by the time she got over the shock and any potential outrage, they were back to the car.

He opened the passenger door and set her inside. He moved around to the driver's side and adjusted the seat back as far as it would go before he got in.

"Tell me," he said shortly, his gaze focused straight ahead.

Sharon looked at him, knew despite the calm exterior that anger was brewing just below the surface; anger fueled by fear for her.

"The first time was Monday," she explained. "I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye when I was buying art supplies but by the time I got outside, he was gone. Then on Wednesday, after I met my contact. He was at a newsstand, reading the paper."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Because I couldn't be sure. And because..." She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Because I was scared."

He glanced at her. "And you didn't tell me."

"I wasn't scared for my safety. At the school, I...I froze, Steve. I panicked. Years of training, gone. By the time I got in the car and looked to see if it was really him, he'd disappeared again and I thought maybe I was just seeing things."

She turned in her seat, the seatbelt he'd clipped too tightly biting into her bare shoulder. She ignored the discomfort, her concern more for finishing her confession. "I knew if I told you, Bucky and Sam that you'd worry. Worry about me and worry for me. I didn't know if I could go through it again, having my boyfriend and over protective big brothers watching my every move, treating me I couldn't take care of myself."

"We can't help that we worry," he said defensively.

"I know," she said, briefly putting her hand over his. "I know. You wouldn't be the men you are if you didn't want to protect me, if you didn't worry about me. But I also wouldn't be me if I didn't hate it a little bit. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, Steve. It's hard to relinquish control."

Steve was quiet, taking his time to answer as he navigated the still relatively empty streets toward home.

"We're not trying to control you, Sharon," he said as he turned down their block. "I don't think we could. Your independence is one of the things I love about you."

It was her turn to be quiet, staring at him in surprise. Finally, she said, "Telling me how much you love my independence doesn't make it any less obvious that you'd like to rein it in right now, especially concerning Rumlow."

He pulled into the garage and parked the car next to his truck, then turned to look at her. "What if I'm just telling you that I love you?"

Despite everything, Sharon felt a not unpleasant ache in her heart at his words.

She didn't speak, was afraid to as she watched Steve pocket her keys and unlock his seatbelt. He leaned over, somehow manipulating his bulk in the cramped confines of the compact, and kissed her gently. "I love you, Sharon."

"I love you, Steve," she whispered back, smiling against his lips.

They finally pulled apart when Sharon's phone beeped about an upcoming appointment, reminding them that the Stark techs would be there soon for the final step in their system upgrade.

"I guess we should get upstairs before Oscar and Rudy arrive," Sharon said, disappointed that she couldn't enjoy this milestone of their relationship just a little bit longer.

"I guess we better," he agreed, just as reluctant. "And, at some point, we should discuss what to do about your Rumlow sightings."

She closed the car door, nearly forgetting that pending conversation. She nodded, taking Steve's offered hand, and they moved to the elevator together.

"Can we hold off telling the boys? At least for today? Sam's got his date with Maria tonight."

Steve frowned, not loving the idea, but he agreed and pulled her to him for the ride up to the top floor.

They parted ways, heading to their respective apartments to shower and change. She'd thought about suggesting they save time by sharing the shower but assumed he wouldn't go for it.

Unlocking his door, Steve paused and called her name.

Sharon turned back, wondering briefly if he was going to suggest a shared shower.

He wasn't. Instead, he said, "Just remember, the next time you think you're being stalked by an obsessed Hydra agent, I really want you to tell me."

She smiled in spite of herself.

"You'll be the first," she said and walked inside her apartment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Steve finished his shower and joined Sam and Bucky in the command center, where the two were having a heated discussion over in the kitchenette.

"If you don't toast a Pop-Tart before you eat it," Sam was saying, "You're denying the essence of the Pop-Tart. It becomes a snack, not a meal."

"If I'm hungry and I eat it and I'm not hungry anymore, it did its job," Bucky said, taking a bite of the freshly opened Frosted Raspberry pastry in his hand, the torn pieces of its foil pouch still clinging to it.

"I can't even watch you eat like an animal." Sam turned away in disgust and saw that he and Bucky were no longer alone. "Morning, Steve. How was the run?"

"Eventful," Steve said, not liking to lie but not wanting to betray Sharon's request.

"I heard you coming down the stairs this morning and almost thought about joining you," Sam said, taking his own Pop-Tart out of the toaster and laying it on a plate to cool. "Then I realized your good looks weren't enough to get me out of bed two hours before the sun comes up and went back to sleep."

"Sharon should get her eyes checked," Bucky said, studying Steve. "You're not that good looking."

Steve stared pointedly at the two and asked, "Which one of us has a girlfriend?"

"Hey," Sam said defensively," I've got a date tonight."

"You were set-up," Bucky reminded him.

"But Sharon picked me to be Hill's date tonight over all y'all," Sam said smugly. "Because I look great in a tux."

Before Bucky could respond, Sharon came in.

"No one felt like making coffee this morning?" she asked, stifling a yawn. She eyed the Pop-Tarts with longing and grabbed a yogurt out of the small refrigerator instead.

"No one makes it as good as you," Sam said.

"So we've waited," Bucky added. "Patiently."

Sharon gave them both a look before she grabbed the special bag of coffee she kept on the top shelf; the last bag from her parents' most recent trip to Brazil. Now that her dad's preferred beans had ruined all other coffee for her team, Sharon figured she should probably look into ordering their own supply rather than relying on her parents' vacation schedule.

She ground the beans and filled the machine, pulling the pot out and letting her mug fill first before replacing it.

She took an appreciative sniff, a tentative sip, and sighed with contentment as she leaned against the counter.

"The endorphins from your run weren't enough this morning?" Sam asked.

Sharon looked to Steve before answering. "If he would have let me, I would have drank the coffee before the run. Only crazy super soldiers are up at that hour."

Bucky shrugged. "I slept in."

"Apparently you're not the craziest super soldier we've got," Sam said with a grin.

"I wouldn't say that." Sharon smiled over her coffee. "If Steve was the crazy one, we'd have to get him a dog today instead of Bucky."

"What?"

"I got the call while I was in the shower," she explained to Steve and Sam and then turned to Bucky. "There's a retired police dog from Michigan in need of a good home. We can meet her this afternoon and, if you two hit it off, she can come home with us today."

"You're getting me a dog?" Bucky asked, barely containing his excitement. "Since when?"

"Since Sam told us how well you hit it off with Sasha in Italy."

Bucky didn't think, just pulled Sharon to him, and held her in a bionic hug. Steve caught her near-empty coffee mug before it could spill or crash to the floor and Sam jumped out of the way as Bucky spun her in a celebratory circle.

"I'm getting a dog," he said, setting her back down and grinning. "I've always wanted a dog."

"That's true. You did always want a dog," Steve said, not sure if Bucky remembered it. "I think you settled for having me follow you around, instead."

Bucky gave him a look, trying to capture the memory, and then frowned when it escaped him.

"Don't worry about it, Buck," Steve said gently, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Bucky," Sam said, "An actual dog's gonna be way better than having Steve around."

"It's too bad we'll be out meeting Rocky while you're primping for Maria, Sam," Sharon said and then added a fake sniffle. "We're going to miss your first date. I was going to take pictures and everything."

"It's not prom, Sharon," Sam said, echoing Sharon's comment to him from before.

"She is picking you up in a limo," Steve added.

"You should expect to put out."

Everyone stared at Bucky after his comment. "What? I learned it on tv."

Before anyone could address the giant elephant that had just trampled through the room, a buzz announced the arrival of Oscar and Rudy.

"Thank God," Sam muttered, putting his plate in the sink.

Sharon felt the same relief but didn't say anything as she went downstairs to let Oscar and Rudy in. Declining her offer to come up for coffee, they headed straight for the server room they'd fashioned out of one of the empty closets on the garage level.

She made her way back up the stairs to find the boys had moved to their desks - Sam in his chair while Bucky sat on the filing cabinet next to it and Steve sitting in her seat with his legs propped on the desktop.

She gave his stockinged feet a look before she sat down next to them.

"Why are we all just sitting around waiting for them to boot up a computer?" Sam asked. "It's not like we'll know if the new system's working until someone tries to break in."

"The new system's based on biometrics," Sharon explained over her shoulder. "Once we're booted up, the system will take an initial scan of the entire building - hence the sensors in all of our apartments, work and common areas - and alert us if anything is out of the ordinary. We'll also have individual profiles created from that scan so the system will recognize us."

"Oscar said the system is sensitive enough to detect a change in temperature or even the oxygen and carbon dioxide ratio in a room," Steve added. "A new houseplant would be enough to throw off the ratio and trigger an alarm, just like any intruder who somehow bypassed the rest of the sensors."

Sam looked around at the big-screen monitors that lined the walls and new computers on their desks. "I like all the fancy stuff we've gotten but do we really need the security system? I mean, who's gonna be dumb enough to break into Captain America's house?"

"I'm sure that's what Tony Stark thought right before someone destroyed his house in Malibu and several of his Iron Man suits with it," Sharon said. "The work we're doing is starting to get attention - and not the good kind. If Pepper Potts wants to give us the latest and greatest tech Stark Industries has to offer, I'm not going to argue. "

"Frankly," Steve said, "and I know I'll get in trouble for sounding like a chauvinist, I'll feel better knowing Sharon's protected by the new system when we're all out in the field."

"I second your out-dated and chauvinistic attitude," agreed Sam.

"And I third it," Bucky said.

Before Sharon could protest, they were informed that the baseline environmental scan was taking place and for everyone to remain where they were.

They all held perfectly still - until Bucky snorted with a barely contained chuckle.

"What?" Sam asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"We can move during the scan," he said, laughing like he'd just played the greatest prank on his friends. "We just can't leave this zone until it's done. Rudy told me yesterday."

"Thanks for telling the rest of us," Sam said. "I know you think you're - What the hell is that?"

They all stood as an alarm started blaring throughout the command center and the dormant monitors on the wall started flashing.

"Foreign transmission detected," a disembodied voice announced just as the words appeared on the central monitor. "Garage level. Stall eight. Foreign transmission detected. Garage..."

The announcement repeated as the monitor showed them the garage level and then panned toward Steve's truck and then Sharon's car.

"Miss Carter," Oscar called over the intercom, his voice overriding the computer's. "You'll want to come down here. We've found something you should see."

* * *

><p>Sharon stood with Sam, Bucky and Steve as they all looked at the device Rudy had found attached to the underside of her car, wedged out of sight behind the gas tank.<p>

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"A tracking beacon," Sharon answered, recognizing the SHIELD-issued design. "Can you tell how long it's been there?" she asked the tech.

"Without actually analyzing it, I'd say between four and eight months" Rudy rubbed his gloved thumb over the casing. "It's got a layer of road salt so it's been there at least as long as the last snow but not long enough to corrode yet. Do you want me to have it tested?"

"That won't be necessary," Steve said, sharing a look with Sharon. "I think we have a pretty good idea who put it there."

"Rumlow," Sharon said.

"Rumlow?" Sam asked, surprised.

"That's how he found you at the cabin," Steve said. "And that's how he's been haunting you around DC. He's been tracking your car."

"Back up," Sam said. "Haunting Sharon around DC? How long's this been going on."

"Almost a week," Sharon said.

"And you didn't tell us?" Bucky growled, his anger directed at Steve as he took a step toward him.

Sharon put a hand on Bucky's chest. "Steve didn't know until this morning. I didn't want to worry you guys if I wasn't even sure of what I'd been seeing."

Oscar cleared his throat, reminding the team that he and Rudy were still standing right there.

"Who put the tracker on Miss Carter's car?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "The same psychopath who put her in the hospital six months ago."

Oscar and Rudy, who had both grown to like Sharon, were upset by that information.

"We can jam the signal," Oscar offered.

"Do it," Steve said.

But, at nearly the same time, Sharon said, "Don't."

"Why not?" Steve asked.

"Trust me, Steve. I'm not taking any chances this time." She turned to Rudy. "Can you trace the transmission?"

"It's idle now, I'm afraid," Rudy said. "We only found it because of the concentration of the sensors during the baseline scan. If the tracker was active, I could probably tell you exactly where it was being traced from."

"Can the new system tell when the tracker's active?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Oscar answered.

"Then we leave it," Sharon said. "If we jam it, Rumlow knows he's been found out and just finds some new way to mess with me. If we wait, we might be able to back-trace the signal and find him instead."

"So you're just going to continue driving around town broadcasting your location to Rumlow?" Sam asked. "Can I say how much I hate that idea without sounding as chauvinistic as Steve?"

"We'll leave the tracker and my car here," Sharon said. "We can't be sure that Rumlow isn't already surveilling our building and knows when I leave. If my car moves and the signal doesn't, he'll know he's been found out. And the tracker needs to stay here so we can trace it the next time it's activated."

Steve looked thoughtful. "It's a good idea. But..."

"I know." Sharon knew what he was going to say. "I'm not leaving the building without one of you with me."

"That's right," Bucky agreed. "We want you safe, Sharon."

"Whether you like our methods or not," Sam added.

Rudy took care of the tracker, putting it in a plastic box he'd found and placing it on the shelf next to Sharon's car. He also wrote a subroutine so the system would automatically trace the signal as soon as it was active again while Oscar took them through the features of their new security system and the Stark secured network.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

It was well past dinnertime when Sharon, Bucky and Steve arrived home Saturday night with their newest teammate.

Steve parked his truck next to Sharon's car and locked eyes with her, the two sharing a smile at the sleeping Bucky and Rocky in the backseat. The Winter Soldier had his dark-eyed beauty cradled in his arm, her nose nuzzled under his chin as they both snored softly.

"I think you found the right match," Steve said, giving Sharon's hand a light squeeze.

Sharon nodded. It had been love at first sight for Bucky and for Rocky. While there had been other dogs up for adoption, there had only been one for Bucky. She was young for retirement but an injury in the line of duty had robbed her of most of her hearing, making her essentially deaf in the left ear.

While Bucky's unique circumstances had Sharon technically listed as Rocky Balboa's new owner on her adoption papers and new tags, the three-year-old German Shepherd was one-hundred percent Bucky's in every other way.

As far as the Social Security Administration was concerned, James Buchanan Barnes had been dead for more than seventy years. Unlike Steve's situation, spending that time getting his frozen beauty sleep in the Arctic, Bucky had spent decades as a top-secret Russian assassin responsible for nearly fifty deaths.

They had all agreed that drawing unwanted attention to that fact by trying to reinstate Bucky's original identity was kind of a bad idea.

So, though Bucky had plenty of fake IDs at his disposal when he needed them, he was still very much a ghost. Though he earned a wage through the funding Sharon had secured for Team America, he didn't have a credit card, checking account or driver's license.

What he did have was a bank card Sharon had set up under their corporate account, one that accessed his "allowance," as Sam termed it.

On the way back to DC, Bucky put a good-sized dent in that allowance at the pet store in Arlington. By the time they were done, Rocky had a bed for Bucky's apartment and the command center, a set of bowls for each and a set of travel bowls, a new collar and matching leash, spare leashes, grooming brushes and shampoo, food, treats and a variety of toys - chew, squeak and tug.

Steve didn't know if the store employees worked on commission but, if they did, he figured the young man who'd helped them fill three shopping carts was set for the year by the time Bucky and Rocky were done.

For now, man and dog seemed content where they were in the truck so Sharon and Steve left them there and headed upstairs with their many purchases from the back of the truck.

They stopped off in the command center and, while Steve moved the desks around to create space for one of Rocky's beds near Bucky's usual spot, Sharon washed a set of bowls and filled them with food and water in the kitchenette.

Done there, they took the rest up to Bucky's apartment on the same floor as Sam's. Bucky never locked his door so they took the liberty of placing the bed in the living room and setting up the dishes in the kitchen.

"What should I do with all of these?" Steve asked, indicating the remaining shopping bags of canine merchandise.

"I didn't think to buy a couple of tubs to keep all of Rocky's toys in," Sharon said as she wondered what to do with the collection.

As they deliberated, Steve heard Bucky's voice on the landing as he gave Rocky the tour of the warehouse.

"This is Sam's apartment. You'll meet him later," he was saying as they walked past Sam's door, Bucky walking and talking on Rocky's right side as she cocked her head at him as though listening to him.

When he walked into his own apartment, Bucky said, "And this is our apartment. You already know Sharon and Steve who apparently think they can just come in whenever they want."

While there was no heat behind his words, Steve explained, "We wanted to help you get settled."

"But we're not sure what to do with all of Rocky's new stuff," Sharon added.

Bucky seemed unconcerned as he unhooked Rocky's leash. He picked up the nearest bag of toys and walked it into the living room, Rocky at his heels. He up-ended the first bag onto the floor near Rocky's bed and said, "Take your pick, Rocky."

Rocky looked up at Bucky, then at a the pile of toys. She nosed through until she came across a plush hedgehog. She picked the toy up and carried it to her bed, settling in.

"We can pick up some tubs to keep her toys organized," Sharon said, bending to put the toys back in the bag.

"This will work," Bucky said, grabbing one of the laundry baskets he seldom used.

He emptied one of the other bags of toys into the basket while Sharon took care of the toys on the floor. He hung the spare leashes on one of the hooks by the front door and carried the grooming supplies back to his bathroom where he unceremoniously dumped his own contents from one drawer into another and then filled the now-empty drawer with Rocky's brush, comb, shampoo and nail clippers.

"I put Rocky's food and treats in your pantry and left the smaller bag of food downstairs in the command center," Sharon informed him when he came back into the living area. "We're going to order pizza and watch a movie in Steve's apartment if you two are interested, otherwise we'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

Bucky looked over at Rocky. "I think we'll stay here but we'd take pizza if you want to order an extra pie."

**Author's Note: **We actually had a sick pet most of this weekend which made writing this chapter very difficult. The good news is that our rabbit, Gordon Whitefoot, is doing just fine now but his illness did break up the momentum I had going for this story and, like I said, made writing Bucky's first day with his new pet difficult to wrap my head (and heart) around. Hopefully we're back on track to still finish before Christmas.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Maria Hill had found herself in a lot of difficult positions in her espionage career. Her current predicament was a new one but just as delicate as any international incident she'd been involved in.

Feeling around in the dark with as much stealth as she could, she finally found what she was looking for - the dress she'd shed after too much wine and too much charm the night before.

As she tried turning the dress right side out, she wondered if it was worth looking for her discarded shoes or if she should just go hail a cab barefoot. How she'd let him convince her to wear her high heels into the bedroom in the first place she'd never know.

Just as she finally got the dress righted and was about to pull it over her head, a sleepy voice in the dark called out, "You know it'd be a lot easier if you just turned a light on."

Maria heard the gentle click of the bedside lamp as it suddenly filled the room with a soft glow and regarded the bare-chested man who'd been her undoing.

"Isn't that better?" Sam asked, taking an appreciative look at the not-entirely-dressed Maria as he leaned back against the headboard. "And I get the benefit of a show."

Maria merely arched an eyebrow at him and went back to sorting out her rumpled garment.

"I assume you decided against breakfast?" he asked, alluding to the offer he'd made when they finally collapsed onto the bed after getting to know one another intimately - and repeatedly - only hours before.

"I don't think it would be a good idea," Maria said, frowning at him. "The last thing I need is for Captain America to see me in the dress I wore last night after hooking up with one of his lieutenants."

"First of all," Sam said lazily, "Steve could care less. That's one of the best things about him. For all his quiet morals, he's the least judgmental guy I know. And, second, we don't really stand on professionalism around here, not unless there's a mission. No one's gonna care that you stayed over last night."

"I still don't think I should," she said, finally slipping the dress on and then struggling with the zipper - only to realize it had been broken in his haste to get it off of her.

Sam got out of the bed and took his time as he pulled a pair of sweatpants on, offering a repeat of the show she'd enjoyed last night.

"Your loss," he said with a shrug. "Sharon does this thing with chia seeds that makes you forget you're not eating real pancakes and Steve's the master of eggs."

Maria stopped struggling with the dress and regarded him. "I can't imagine Captain America cooking."

"Come upstairs with me and you don't have to. You can see for yourself."

He watched the indecision play across her face and wondered how she'd survived as long as she had being so tightly wound. She'd nearly killed him their first go-round last night, like a spring coiled too tightly and finally set free.

Maria sighed, tossing the dress on the bed and eying his outfit. "Do you at least have an extra pair of sweats and a tee-shirt I can borrow?"

"I can do better than that," Sam smiled, grabbing his cell phone.

* * *

><p>If Sharon was surprised when Sam called and asked to borrow clothes for Maria, she didn't show it when she delivered yoga pants, a sweater and a small bag of toiletries to his door ten minutes later.<p>

"Someone already ate the first batch of bacon so take your time while Steve cooks more," she said, handing the neatly folded garments over to Sam.

"This is why we don't leave Bucky alone in the kitchen," Sam reminded her as tucked the items under his arm.

"It was him _and_ Steve. They were showing off the tricks they could get Rocky to do." Sharon frowned. "I just hope they don't make her sick."

"She was a police dog, she's probably used to worse," Sam called out as Sharon headed back upstairs.

He closed the door and walked into the bedroom to find that Maria had wrapped herself in the sheet, wearing the flannel toga with a surprising amount of dignity considering her situation.

He set the items on the bed next to her. "Sharon brought these for you."

Maria picked up the bag of bath items. "Did she know you were going to get lucky?" she asked, studying the new travel-sized items within.

"With as much as we travel, Sharon and Steve put a bunch of those together so we don't have to worry about packing the essentials when a mission comes in."

"A good idea," Maria admitted. "Probably would have been a good tip for SHIELD agents."

"That might even be where Sharon came up with it," Sam said as Maria stood up. "We've got time if you want to take a quick shower before we go up."

Maria looked thoughtful. "How long does Rogers need to make more bacon?" she asked, apparently having heard Sharon's comment.

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes? Why?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, dropping her sheet in the process.

"That's plenty of time for us both to shower."

* * *

><p>A little more than fifteen minutes later, Sam led Maria into the brightly lit apartment upstairs.<p>

"Make yourself comfortable," Sharon called from the open kitchen, gesturing toward the table. "We're nearly done over here."

As she took the seat Sam offered, Maria saw that Steve Rogers was indeed at the stove cooking, apparently having taken over for Sharon as he flipped the infamous chia pancakes. Her fascination with the sight of Captain America in an apron was surpassed, however, by the piles of food already on the table.

She leaned toward Sam when he took the seat next to her and immediately started filling his plate.

"You eat like this every Sunday?" Maria asked, indicating the heaping platters of eggs, pancakes, muffins, bacon, fruit and yogurt as well as the pitchers of orange and apple juice.

"More like every day. We do have two super soldiers to feed."

Maria couldn't help the "wow" that escaped her lips as she accepted the cup of coffee Sharon placed in front of her - already creamed and sugared to her preference. She took a drink, appreciating the fancy beans Sharon favored, and found Barnes and his dog staring at her intently.

She smiled, trying to be friendly, and aimed for something polite to say. "That is a beautiful dog."

"Her name is Rocky," Bucky replied.

"This is her first meal with all of us, too," Sharon said as she took one of the remaining seats. "And apparently we've decided that she can sit at the table with us."

Sam laughed. "If Bucky's allowed at the table, I don't see why Rocky shouldn't be."

"Rocky's table manners are probably better," Steve chimed in as he took his place next to Sharon and accepted the plate she'd already loaded with food for him.

It should have been awkward, Maria thought, eating a surprisingly excellent breakfast with a man she'd only known in a passing professional capacity until spending last night with him, two of her former subordinates and a known assassin and his dog, but it wasn't.

Once Steve sat and everyone gave the barest of pauses in their conversation for him to say grace over his plate (which Maria was familiar with from the Triskelion commissary), everyone went back to talking at once with the topics including upcoming movies they wanted to see, local sports they'd wished they hadn't, the new tricks they wanted to teach Bucky's dog and a construction project they promised to complete at Sharon's parents house before Labor Day.

When they finished eating, Maria volunteered to do with the dishes and drafted Sam to help her by drying. As she handed him the hand-washed skillet, she noticed Sharon and Steve, still seated at the table and obviously sharing a tender moment.

As far as Maria knew, Steve hadn't shown interest in any woman since waking up in the twenty-first century, much to the consternation and frustration of many of her agents. She'd had to have several uncomfortable conversations with women from all levels of SHIELD about their inappropriate attempts to capture Captain America's attention.

Maria had herself wondered if Steve was even interested in women, concerned more with finding his place in the world and, at times, caught up in his past.

"I didn't know they were together," she said quietly to Sam, angling her chin toward the couple.

Sam looked over his shoulder at his teammates and then back at Maria. "They just celebrated their six month anniversary on Monday."

Six months - so they'd been together two months when they'd started up Team America and she'd had no idea. She wondered if Pepper did, or Tony. She was almost certain Natasha would have known - and Black Widow was going to hear about keeping the rest of them in the dark.

"Is it a problem?"

"What?" Maria asked, caught off guard by Sam's question.

"You're not hung up on Steve, right? That's not what last night was about, was it?" Sam asked.

"No," Maria said, shaking her head. "Nothing like that. I'm just surprised, which doesn't happen often. And I'm actually kind of happy for him. He's always seemed so lonely."

"I don't think you can say that now. If there's one thing Captain America doesn't lack in, it's people who care about him. I don't think he ever realized how many until recently."

"I think SHIELD demanded a certain level of loneliness from all of us," Maria admitted. "It was hard to do what we did otherwise."

"And now?"

"What?"

He took the baking sheet she handed him and giving it a swipe with his towel as he asked, "Are you committed to being lonely now?"

Maria looked thoughtful as she handed him the last dish to dry. "I don't know," she answered.

Sam grinned. "I can work with that."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Over the next month, Maria started spending less time in hotels when she was in DC and more time at Team America headquarters - and most of that time spent exclusively with Sam.

It only took four weeks for her to finally invite Sam to New York.

With Falcon making his nest elsewhere for the weekend, Bucky tracking a lead through Canada and Steve fulfilling an obligation at the Smithsonian, Sharon found herself at home and alone for the first time since the discovery of the tracking beacon on her car.

There hadn't been so much as a blip from the tracker or any sight of Rumlow, which only made Sharon question once again whether she'd seen him in DC or not. The presence of the tracker could still explain how he'd found her last fall up at her family's cabin but maybe following her around the city was just beneath the Hydra agent's busy schedule.

Whatever the reason, the lack of activity meant that the boys had relaxed their rules enough that Sharon was able to make use of Steve's truck or Sam's jeep without them or Bucky tagging along where she went.

So, after a run at a nearby dog park with Rocky, Sharon was content to spend a quiet Friday night in her pajamas with a mind-numbing romance novel, glass of wine and giant bowl of popcorn.

She was a third of the way into her book, with the main characters trying to figure out if the immediate and mutual dislike they felt for each other had actually been a heady and passionate desire in disguise, when the alarm panel in Sharon's living room began to beep frantically.

Rocky's head came up and she followed Sharon to the panel, sitting patiently.

Sharon pressed the alarm icon on the panel and a voice and readout indicated, "Unauthorized motion detected. Command level."

_Command level? _Sharon thought. The only way into the Command Center was from the third floor or the garage level. If someone was down there, they'd somehow circumvented the sensors on the floor above or below.

She pulled up the video feed of the second floor, the infrared camera showing her a hooded figure at Sam's desk, trying to hack their network.

There was only one someone she could think of who would break into their warehouse while the boys were gone and she fought the chill that ran down her spine.

_Rumlow_, she thought. He was making his move.

"Suck it up, Sharon," she said aloud. "Time to get your game face on."

Sharon looked down at Rocky, who merely cocked her head and dutifully trailed Sharon as as she grabbed her gun and strapped a knife and spare pistol to her waist.

Rumlow had caught her off-guard once before. She didn't plan on being so vulnerable this time.

The last thing Sharon grabbed was her cellphone - which she used to send an SOS to Steve - before she silenced it and slipped it into a pocket on her belt.

She took another look at the panel, confirming that their intruder was still at Sam's computer, and opened the door with Rocky at her heels.

Sharon turned, about to tell Rocky to stay, when she had an idea and grabbed the collar off the table.

* * *

><p>Rogers and his team had made considerable improvements to their security since their shadowy intruder had done his surveillance. He hadn't expected the biometrics in the garage but had managed to avoid detection with a reflective thermal blanket he had in his survival kit in the trunk of his car.<p>

Choosing speed over stealth, he ditched the blanket once he got to the main level but hadn't expected the Stark encryption on the computer he tried to access.

The job should have been a ten-minute, in and out before anyone even realized he'd been there, deal. Now, at twelve minutes, he was feeling the pressure of imminent intrusion on his goal.

He was just about to give up when he finally cracked the computer password - only to be distracted by a jangling sound. He froze, his ears straining as the sound grew closer, and he strained his eyes into the darkness.

Suddenly, the jangling materialized as the tags of a dog collar - attached to the German Shepherd that came trotting up to him.

"Hey there, doggy," he said, putting out a wary hand to gauge if he was a pet or a guard dog.

"Where'd you come from?" he asked, giving the so-far friendly canine a scratch between the ears. "You're a nice doggy, aren't you?"

In answer, the dog jumped backward just as a high kick from behind knocked him out of the chair.

_I fell for a furry diversion tactic,_ he thought in disgust and wondered if he was losing his touch. He immediately got to his feet, his arms and legs in a defensive stance and searching for his attacker. Since he was still conscious, it obviously hadn't been Rogers or Barnes who'd kicked him.

He spun, blocking the next blow and surmised from the height - or lack thereof - that it was Carter, formerly Agent Thirteen.

He swung out, smacking her arm away, only to hear a growl and the scuffing of claws on the tiled floor.

_Great,_ he thought. _Apparently doggy's not so friendly now._

He jumped, just missing the snapping jaws that had been about to latch onto his calf as his in-and-out, no one will notice mission was quickly escalating into a full-on confrontation he wasn't prepared for.

He blocked another blow from Thirteen only to have the dog jump on him, her momentum pushing him forward and into what sounded like a filing cabinet as it crashed to the ground. He recovered his balance, only to have Carter take the dog's tactic and launch herself at him.

He rolled, pushing her away, and started forward when he didn't immediately hear her get back up.

He went for the light switch and the room flooded with fluorescents - illuminating the nine-millimeter aimed at him.

"Agent Barton?" Sharon asked, disbelief evident as she recognized their hooded intruder.

"We're not agents anymore, Sharon. You can just call me Clint."

Sharon lowered her weapon. "What are you doing here?"

"A terrible job of breaking and entering, that's what," Clint said, sitting back down. "You okay? I didn't want to hurt you."

"Didn't want to hurt me?" she asked, the gun now at her side as she signaled for the dog to stand down. "Then why the hell did you break into our command center?"

"That money trail you've been following? It's me."

"You?" she asked, her gun coming back up and the fur rising on the dog's back.

"Don't worry, I'm not Hydra," he protested, putting a hand up in surrender and trying to ignore the dog's growl. "I've been on a deep cover assignment and that account's been funding it."

"Mission for whom? You just said yourself that we're not agents anymore."

Clint sighed, irritated with himself. He may as well come clean since he'd already been busted.

But the boss wasn't going to like it.

"I'm working for your aunt," he admitted. "She wants me to find who poisoned her."

Sharon relaxed her gun hand again, allowing that information to sink in. It wasn't surprising that Aunt Peggy was looking for answers to the long-term plot to keep her incapacitated but it was surprising that she didn't ask Sharon and her team to look into it.

"I can see you're wondering why she didn't tell you or ask you to do it," Clint said, leaning back in the chair. "When the Triskelion fell, I was already in deep-cover and your aunt wanted me to use those contacts for this fishing expedition."

Sharon allowed herself to be distracted by the vibration of her phone and saw the multiple missed contacts from Steve. She sent him an all clear sign as she signaled again for Rocky to relax as she took her own seat, the dog sitting at her feet.

"How did Peggy contact you if you were in deep cover?"

"Do you even have to ask? Your aunt's still very much connected. Good as Fury was, I don't know if he'd ever have been the equal of Peggy Carter."

"Have you found anything? Do you know who poisoned my aunt?"

Clint's mouth set in a grim line. "You're not going to like the answer."

"I didn't expect that I would," she said, suddenly tired, and was relieved to hear the ping from the wall panel indicating that the garage door had been activated and the familiar purr of Steve's motorcycle as he pulled into the warehouse's lower level.

"I hope that's Cap," Clint said, hearing the bike. "Maybe he'll keep you from doing exactly what I think you're going to do when I tell you want I found."

Sharon turned back to Clint. "And what is that, exactly?"

"The one responsible for your aunt's poisoning," he explained. "It's her son. Your cousin Trent."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

As Clint brought a surprised Steve up to speed, Sharon paced the length of the Command Center, Rocky at her heels, as she mulled over Hawkeye's bombshell.

"How could Peggy's own son be responsible for poisoning her?" Steve asked, echoing the same question Sharon currently wrestled with.

She sat, finally, but her posture was still agitated as she balanced on the edge of the chair with her hands braced on her knees.

"Trent and Patricia have resented their mom for years; blamed her for missing out on their childhood," Sharon explained. "They both moved out west - Trent to Nevada and Patricia to California - to get as far away from her as possible after their dad died. Peggy visited a handful of times but...over the years I think they've convinced her that she was the bad mother they remember and she eventually stopped trying.

"She has grandchildren she's never even met," she continued, standing again to resume her pacing. "I think that's part of why she and I are so close. I was born after Peggy retired from SHIELD and I think I filled the void they left behind."

"I'd think it would take a lot to go from feeling neglected as a child to poisoning your own mother," Steve said, unable to imagine it.

"Hydra's been able to turn people for less, Cap," Clint pointed out.

That had Sharon stopping, facing them. "And you think my cousin is Hydra."

"Or at least serving a purpose," Clint clarified. "It's taken time but I think I've figured out what they wanted so desperately from your aunt, why they kept her alive instead of just killing her off like they did Fury and the others."

Both Sharon and Steve looked at him expectantly.

"It's been rumored for a while that Dr. Erskine had a missing journal, one that didn't stay with his research when the SSR took it after his death. And, rumor has it, this journal contains the missing key to the super soldier serum. Somehow, Hydra thinks your aunt not only has the journal but knows how to translate the code Erksine used in his research."

"Does she?" Steve asked, his jaw suddenly tense. "Does Peggy have the journal?"

Clint hesitated at Steve's tone. "Yes, but not because she kept it from you, Steve. She only has it now because Tony Stark found it hidden in the rubble of his Malibu mansion. Apparently Howard Stark had it buried in the foundation and when Tony inherited the old house, he simply built over it."

"Peggy never did tell us why Stark wanted her in California back in November," Steve reminded Sharon.

"Probably to keep the discovery of the journal a secret," Clint said in Peggy's defense.

"But from us?" Sharon asked, unable to help the sting she felt. She knew the importance of secrets, had kept them from her own family - including Aunt Peggy - as a SHEILD agent. But to have Peggy keeping secrets from her now, to keep something so vital about his own origins from Steve...

"She's always been a spy first. I'm sure she felt her reasons were justified but it doesn't make me hate it any less," Sharon admitted, to herself as much as to the others. "Does she know about Trent?"

Hawkeye nodded. "I don't think she was surprised. Disappointed but not surprised."

"Can Peggy translate the journal as Hydra suspects?" Steve asked.

"If she does, she's not telling me," Clint said, a little too quickly.

Both Steve and Sharon gave him a hard look.

"Okay," he conceded. "I think she can but she doesn't have all of the pieces of the puzzle. She thinks whoever poisoned her does and she wants what he knows."

Dissatisfied with that answer, it didn't take much more pressing on their part for Sharon and Steve to get Clint to finally share all that he knew, including his evidence against Sharon's cousin and his connections to someone called the Clairvoyant.

They poured over Hawkeye's information through the dark hours of the morning, Sharon digging through her own files when something Clint said rang familiar.

"Hey," Steve said, as Sharon quietly reviewed everything Clint had on her cousin. "You okay?"

"Not really," she said flatly, her eyes on a picture of Trent and a former SHIELD agent she vaguely recognized but had never actually met. She looked up at Steve, saw his concern for her only masked the turmoil he himself felt. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"And everyone thinks Captain America doesn't lie," she said with a sad smile. She looked over at Hawkeye, stretched out on the floor with his eyes closed and Rocky's head resting on his leg. "It might be time to call it a night and tackle this in the morning."

"It's been morning for five hours," Clint pointed out, opening one eye to regard her. "Which makes it the third morning I've seen since the last time I got any sleep."

"You're welcome to bunk in my apartment," Steve offered.

"I was fine sleeping here until you two started chatting." Clint sat up, disturbing Rocky who merely stared at him with those big brown eyes that seemed to seduce every man she met. "But I'll take something other than the tile floor if you're offering."

"I am," Steve said, turning to Sharon. "I'll get Hawkeye settled and then come check on you."

As Clint followed Steve up the stairs, he commented, "This is a heckuva set-up you've got here, Cap."

"It was mostly Sharon's doing, her vision and her proposal to Stark Industries."

"I've missed a lot being underground for the better part of the year," Clint admitted. "For instance, how long have you and Sharon been a thing?"

They reached the top floor and Steve led Clint to his apartment as he answered, "Seven months."

"I always liked Thirteen, even though I only worked with her the one time." Clint followed Steve into his apartment, gave a low whistle. "Nice digs."

"Thanks."

"Did you know her aunt's the one who actually recruited me?"

The surprise on Steve's face answered Clint's question.

"She wasn't director of SHIELD anymore but Peggy Carter was only ever semi-retired as an agent." Clint waited while Steve gathered blankets and a pillow for the couch. "I've always been fond of the old gal and I suppose that's extended to Sharon."

"Why do I suddenly feel like you're about to tell me that if I hurt Sharon, I'll have you to answer to?" Steve asked, setting the bedding down.

"Because you will," Hawkeye said. "I respect the crap out of you, Cap, and I know it wouldn't be easy but, if you hurt Sharon, I'll make sure you hurt a little bit, too."

"I don't doubt it," Steve said. "And, if I ever hurt Sharon, I'll let you."

* * *

><p>Even though Steve deliberately gave Sharon alone time with her thoughts, she spent the time trying not to think and took care of her unused wine, stale popcorn and forgotten novel.<p>

By the time he let himself into her apartment, Sharon had cleaned the kitchen, changed into a pair of sweats and tank and had just draped a blanket over a sleeping Rocky who'd decided that her job as a distraction earlier had earned her a night on the couch.

Wordlessly, she left Rocky where she was and walked into Steve's arms, heaving a sigh.

"How are you doing?" he asked, kissing the top of her head softly.

"Not great," she admitted, pulling back to look up at him. "A part of me isn't surprised that Trent would do something like this. He always had a mean streak."

"I didn't think you knew him very well," Steve said, his hand absently stroking Sharon's back.

"I was just a baby the last time he visited Peggy but I've seen the videos of him and Patricia as kids. Uncle Patrick shot home movies because Aunt Peggy was gone a lot for SHIELD. When she was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's we watched a lot of them. I've seen Trent steal birthday balloons from his sister, taunt the animals at the zoo and make the lead in his school play cry so he could be Peter Pan."

"So he's a bully," Steve said.

"If you want to make it that simple, yes, you could say that." Sharon played with the hem of his shirt, giving her hands something to do even as they curled into useless fists. "I could see a skilled Hydra agent feeding on that dark streak, enough to make him hurt his own mother."

Steve stilled her hands by covering them with his own. "We'll deal with him, Sharon. After you get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep, Steve," she protested. "I want answers. Not just from Trent but from Aunt Peggy."

"I know you do," he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. "But you're exhausted. We could both use a good night's sleep first."

She leaned into him, her rock. "Are you just trying to talk me into bed?"

"I might be," he admitted, leading her down the hall and turning off the main lights as he did.

She allowed him to fuss over her, folding back the covers and making a show of fluffing the pillows. She crawled in at his instruction and he pulled the blankets back up, tucking them around her.

Sharon gave Steve an expectant look and he kicked off his shoes and dropped his jeans to the floor. She scooted to the middle of the bed and opened the blankets back up and he slid into the bed behind her, pulling her to him until she relaxed against his chest.

"Given the circumstances, this could sound wrong," she said softly as the warm strength of him helped to relieve the tension she felt and she slowly drifted to sleep, "But I could get used to this every night."

"Me, too," Steve admitted, turing off the lamp and settling into the pillows. He closed his eyes as he held her to him. "Me, too."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Though it didn't happen often enough, Steve did enjoy waking up in Sharon's bed.

With his eyes closed, still entranced by the lingerings wisps of sleep, his remaining senses were full of Sharon - the feel of her silky hair on his bare arm, the lingering scent of her vanilla-strawberry shampoo as it clung to the sheets, the warmth of her pressed against his side, the sound of her gentle snores...

He opened his eyes and looked down to discover that it wasn't his blonde girlfriend laying next to him but a brunette with no sense of personal boundaries. He shifted, waking Rocky who immediately attacked him with sticky canine kisses.

The dog's hot breath and enthusiastic tongue as she slobbered over Steve was a poor substitute for Sharon's soft morning kisses but he'd woken up to worse.

Any day that didn't start with Dum Dum Dugan's sweaty wool socks inches from his face was a good one.

He indulged Rocky's demands for affection, rubbing her belly and asking the canine "who's a good girl?" in the same dopey voice he'd heard Bucky use with her.

Rocky only thumped her tail against the mattress with the attention, the fevered movement fanning a yellow sticky note that barely clung to the blanket.

Don't worry, I didn't run off to find Trent on my own. I couldn't sleep so I went down to do research.

Steve smiled, knowing that the thought had probably crossed her mind to leave him behind while she confronted the man they suspected of poisoning her aunt.

And the fact that she didn't made him love her even more.

They were both learning, both growing, in their relationship. And something Sharon was finally learning was that just because she could handle something herself, she didn't have to.

Just as he'd learned not too long ago that just because he could do something for Sharon, that didn't mean he should.

It had been a painful lesson, watching Sharon struggle through her recovery after Rumlow's attack, but he had to stop babying her so she could make herself strong again, physically and mentally. All he'd wanted to do was protect her from the world, from any hurt it could cause, and he'd come very close to doing more harm than good and driving her away.

He got out of bed, grabbing his jeans, and gave a still-demanding Rocky a scratch behind the ears before he padded down the hallway with her at his heels.

Steve noticed that coffee had already been made and drank, the empty carafe sitting on the counter next to the wine glass and bottle from the night before. He didn't necessarily need coffee the way Sharon and Sam did, not with his metabolism, but he enjoyed a comforting cup in the morning just as much as the next guy. He rinsed the carafe, filled the reservoir and reset Sharon's usual morning program, hoping she'd have another pot brewed downstairs.

He stopped by his apartment for a new shirt - not surprised to find that Hawkeye had already flown the coop - and wasn't disappointed when he reached the command center, the nutty smell of Sharon's favorite caffeinated flavor beckoning.

As he came quietly down the steps, he caught sight of Sharon at her desk and took a moment to admire the picture she made. He hair had been hastily pulled back, blond tendrils curling around her head as they escaped the careless ponytail. She was wearing the same tank and sweatpants she'd slept in and had pulled one of his flannel shirts from somewhere and wore it unbuttoned over her outfit.

Steve could think of a lot of things he'd rather do with his very attractive girlfriend if this were any other Saturday with Bucky and Sam out of town...but this wasn't any other Saturday.

He got his coffee, preferring to drink it as it came from the carafe, and carried it over to the desk. As he took his first sip, he saw that Sharon had been busy.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, studying the neatly labeled folders already lined up on the desk.

"A couple hours," she answered vaguely, not wanting to admit that she'd only managed an hour before a nightmare had made anymore sleep impossible.

He set his coffee aside, scanning the names on each of the dossiers she'd put together. Trent Atherton. Patricia Atherton. Patrick Atherton. Margaret "Peggy" Carter-Atherton.

He paused, surprised to see a file on Peggy, and then saw the last two files. Henry Carter and Angela Harris-Carter.

"Sharon..."

"I know," she said defensively, seeing that Steve was looking at the two most recent files she'd put away completed. "It seems paranoid. And, okay, it _is_ paranoid, but I have to be thorough, Steve."

"But your own parents?"

Sharon sighed, picking up the folder with her mother's name on it. "As an agent, it was a given that everyone had secrets. When a mission came up, it was my job to assume the worst and look for the dirtiest, darkest corner of their lives and find what they hid there. It was an occupational hazard at times, assuming that everyone I worked with lied, but at least I could count on my family.

"But now..." she looked at Trent's folder. "Now I have to question even that."

He took the folder from her and set it down, drawing her into his arms.

She stood rigid in his embrace, not allowing herself to be comforted..

"You know my dad was married before my mom, right?" she asked, her voice distant. "That she was killed by a drunk driver? This morning I started wondering if Hydra had a hand in her accident - or, worse, that my dad did."

Steve's arms stiffened around her. "Sharon, you can't really think -"

"No, Steve. God, no. There's no way that my dad could ever do something so heinous and it makes me hate Trent and Hydra even more for putting those two seconds of doubt in my head about the best man I know."

Steve hugged her closer, her head tucked under his chin, until she finally relaxed. When he felt the tension in her posture give, he smiled into her hair and asked, "Best man you know?"

He felt her shoulder quiver as she tried to hold back a laugh - or a sob. Either way, an indelicate and adorable snort was the result which elicited a full laugh.

"Fine," she acquiesced. "Present company excluded. Are you happy?"

Steve gave her one more squeeze in answer, placing a light kiss on her temple, and released her so she could return to the folders.

"So," he asked, "What have you actually found?"

Sharon opened the Trent folder and spread its contents out for Steve to see.

"It's possible Trent learned everything Uncle Patrick had to teach him about construction and then some or he's been floating on Hydra dollars for at least the last twenty years. He inherited the family business when his dad passed, Aunt Peggy not wanting or needing any part of it. Despite two economic downturns in his time as CEO, the company has remained more than solvent - suspiciously more so than his competitors.

"I've taken to tracking some of the supposed contracts his company took during those leaner years. They seem legit so far, with purchase orders, equipment rentals, material invoices and even employee payroll to back up each job."

"Maybe your cousin's company has been Hydra's own private construction firm."

"Funny you should say that, because that's exactly the conclusion I've come to."

"Really?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Really," Sharon confirmed. "While tracking those contracts, I found that they coincide with some of the old SHIELD accounts I'd already been investigating - including the one Hawkeye is using. If those accounts were actually Hydra, and I'm sure most of them are, then that means Hydra has been Trent's main source of income for those two decades."

Steve looked thoughtful. "If those accounts were originally SHIELD accounts, maybe Trent didn't realize he was working for Hydra at first."

Before she could agree or counter, they were both distracted when Sharon's computer came alive with another security alarm.

"Foreign transmission detected. Garage level. Stall eight."

The disembodied voice repeated the message as it had before but, this time, added, "Tracking in process."

Sharon and Steve both watched as a map of DC appeared on screen and then zoomed out to encompass the tri-state area and then zoomed back in again on northern Maryland, between Hagerstown and Frederick.

"Is that where I think it is?" Steve asked, pointing his finger at the pulsing icon on the screen.

"If you think that's the Antietam National Battlefield, then yes," Sharon said, taking control of her computer from the security system. "According to this, Rumlow - or whoever's using the tracking beacon - is currently smack-dab in the middle of the national park."

Steve stood, his face lined with determination, and held a hand out to Sharon.

"Well, then," he said, taking her hand in his. "What are we waiting for?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The last time Sharon and Steve had been to Antietam, it had started as an ambling ride on his motorcycle that had led them as far as Sharpsburg. They'd toured parts of the battlefield, browsed antique shops in nearby Boonsboro and had spent an entirely pleasurable day enjoying nothing more than each other's company.

This trip wasn't quite so carefree as that one, back in the first months of their relationship, but Sharon knew there was no one else she'd rather make it with.

They took Sam's jeep on the theory that, though Rumlow obviously knew Sharon's car and probably Steve's truck, the relatively new Wrangler had hopefully escaped his notice. They were also banking that the jeep would blend in with the touring vehicles throughout the park more than Steve's truck or bike.

According to Oscar's tracking program, the beacon had originated in the southern part of the park, so Steve parked the jeep near one of the picnic areas. They were both dressed like trail hikers in jeans, tees, ball caps and sunglasses. Sharon wore a pack at her waist with the weapons she felt the most comfortable carrying on federal property - a collapsible baton and pocket knife - while Steve wore an oversized windbreaker despite the heat to disguise his shield strapped to his back.

They set off together along Rodman Road toward the Sherrick and Otto Farms, holding hands and looking the part of a young couple out for a historical stroll. Since Oscar's software hadn't been able to pinpoint the exact origin of the signal, they were on the lookout for anything suspicious since it was doubtful they'd find Rumlow sitting at one of the nearby picnic tables as he spied on Sharon's car.

They stopped near Otto's farm, pretending to read the posted literature to once again give the appearance of casual tourists.

It was a sunny Saturday with a heavy mix of families, scout groups, Civil War buffs and park rangers milling around the battlefield. While the crowd made it easy for Sharon and Steve to blend in, it meant more people for them to watch for.

They paused in front of the Otto Farmhouse.

"There are two more trails up ahead," Sharon said, looking at a map while Steve scanned for signs of Rumlow. "We should split up, cover more ground, and meet at Burnside Bridge."

"Can I answer any questions for you folks?" a ranger asked, inclining his head toward Sharon's map.

"No thank you, Ranger..." Steve read the name tag on the ranger's shirt. "Rick."

"If you're interested," Ranger Rick offered, "I can arrange a private tour of the Sherrick Farmhouse for you."

"That's not necessary," Steve said. "We were just -"

"I insist, Captain Rogers," Rick insisted, the gun in his hand making his point. He directed it toward Sharon. "I know you're fast, Captain Rogers, but I don't think you'd risk a bullet in Agent Thirteen if you're not fast enough."

He pressed the gun into Sharon's side. "We're just going to walk back along the trail and pretend that Captain America is getting the VIP treatment from the National Park Service."

A muscle in Steve's jaw twitched with the desire to punch the not-ranger but he nodded after sharing a look with Sharon.

They started to move together, Rick providing tidbits about the farms and ruins they passed and greeting tourists along the way.

In an effort to appear casual, like they were just conversing with their guide, Sharon asked, "How long have you been masquerading as a ranger?"

"Oh, I'm a fully deputized ranger for the National Park Service," a surprisingly jovial Rick answered. "Made sense when our temporary use of the battlefield became more permanent."

"How many of you are there?" Steve asked.

"Like I'm going to tell you that," Rick laughed. "But there's a good number. Remember the two rangers who helped you out when you were here a couple of months back?"

Sharon's eyes widened despite herself. "Seriously?"

"Yep," he answered, smacking his lips in amusement. "Both Hydra. Man, did we have a laugh about that at the Visitor's Center - after we got over the shock that you two were dating." He lowered his voice. "Honestly, Cap. A couple of us didn't think you liked women. Y'know, that way."

Steve ignored the comment and asked, "Why hide out here in the battlefield?"

"For one thing, it totally beats any other work environment. Just look at this view," Rick answered, stopping them as they looked out over the Sherrick Farm. After a moment, he continued, nudging Sharon forward with a jab from his gun. "Who wants to be cooped up in some musty hideout when you can be out in the fresh air every day?"

"Honestly?" Sharon said, "I just figured Hydra was anti-fresh air and picturesque views. Aren't you all about world domination?"

"Order, Agent Thirteen. We're about order. And preserving history is just as important to us as it is to your star-spangled boyfriend. We're Americans, too, y'know."

Sharon wanted little more than to refute that statement but Rick was already leading them up the steps into the farmhouse. She counted two more men dressed as rangers and a handful of others dressed in civilian garb as he ushered them inside.

She expected the house to be empty like the ones open to the public but Sharon was surprised to see the house was fully furnished, the wood floor polished to a shine. Great care had obviously been put into restoring the inside of the historic building, even while the outside remained as untouched as it had for centuries. The furniture was all restored period pieces, as far as her hobbyist eye could tell, or quality replicas mixed with key modern touches like flat screen surveillance monitors that showed feeds from throughout the park.

"It's a sight, right?" Rick asked, giving Sharon and Steve a moment to appreciate the restored interior. "We had some down time waiting for things to cool off after our whole 'coming out party' last fall. It was a lot of hard work but it was worth it."

When their moment was done, Rick used his gun to once again nudge Sharon forward and direct them through the house.

"We're going in here," he said, pointing to the open kitchen door. "The boss wants to see you."

They entered the kitchen where a large woodblock countertop dominated the space.

And seated at that counter was none other than Brock Rumlow.

The former STRIKE team commander and SHIELD agent was about four inches into a foot-long submarine sandwich and greeted them around a mouthful of salami and provolone.

"Hey, Blondie. Cap. I wondered how long it'd take you to pay a visit."

"Are you the boss of this operation?" Sharon asked.

Rick laughed at that, earning a glare from Rumlow that accentuated the Hydra agent's remaining scars from the burns he'd suffered.

"Management isn't really my style," he said with a shrug, taking another bite of his sandwich. "If I was, I wouldn't have allowed you two to just waltz in here without even being disarmed but it's not my call."

Sharon tensed, hoping no one would have realized that she still carried her hip-pack of weapons and Steve had his shield.

"Who's call is it, then?" Steve asked.

"That would be me, Captain Rogers."

The couple turned at the sound of the newcomer's voice behind them.

They recognized him immediately; Steve from the photographs in Sharon's file and Sharon from her own childhood.

Trent Atherton had the look of his father, handsome despite the smirk he wore. He wasn't so tall as his father had been, his features softer, and if you looked closely at his eyes, you saw his mother's staring back.

Steve did look closely, trying to gauge the man Peggy's son had become. In only a moment's assessment, he no longer harbored any delusions that Trent was not fully embedded in the Hydra mindset; that he wasn't just as obsessed with their version of "order" as Pierce, Zola and Schmidt.

Trent shook his head, the smirk widening. "I've heard so many stories about you, Captain Rogers, I almost can't believe I'm finally meeting you. How my mother would go on and on about you, it was a wonder my father even bothered trying for her affection."

Before Steve could comment, Trent moved onto Sharon.

"And my dear little cousin, you've grown into quite the beautiful young woman. And hooked up with Peggy's old flame I see." He lowered his voice conspiratorially and bent over so slightly in Sharon's direction. "I bet that made the holidays awkward, you and Mother fighting over the mistletoe."

He took a step back, clapping his hands together. "Well, I am so glad to have you both visiting our little operation today. I've been dying to talk to you, Sharon, and I just know that Brock over here has some things he wants to work out with you, Captain."

Trent nodded slightly, signaling for Rick to jab his gun into Sharon's side again.

Steve took a step toward them but stopped when Trent admonished, "If you interfere, Captain, I'll just have Rick shoot her and you can watch Peggy 2.0 bleed out in front of you."

Steve stared at Trent.

"Don't think I won't do it just because she's second-hand blood to me. If you haven't figured it out by now, I was willing to poison my own mother. Family doesn't really hold a lot of meaning for me."

"And just what does?" Steve growled.

"Well, manners for one thing, of which you don't seem to have any." Trent turned his attention to Rumlow. "Brock, be a dear and take your friend outside to play. I want to have some quality time with my cousin."

Rumlow finished the last of his sandwich, wiping his mouth with the napkin that had been draped over his lap. He set the plate and napkin aside and stood.

"C'mon, Cap," he said. "Let's head outside."

Steve didn't move, his eyes locked on Rumlow.

"C'mon, Cap," Rumlow repeated. "I asked nicely."

Steve didn't budge, calculating how close he needed Rumlow to be for a solid punch to land his former second on his back so he could take out Rick before he managed to fire off a shot and then take down Atherton before any of them could alert the rangers outside.

"Last time, Cap," Rumlow said, stopping only inches from where Steve needed him to be.

"Okay," Rumlow said with a casual shrug and then lunged at Steve at lightning speed, gripping his arm and shoulder and launching him out the kitchen window.

"Steve!" Sharon shouted, starting forward, only to have Rick grab her arm and hold her back.

"Brock..." Trent said, his voice disappointed. "We just had those windows cleaned."

"Sorry, boss," Rumlow said, moving to the window he'd just messily opened and staring down at the prone form of a slightly dazed and confused Captain America. He pulled himself up onto the sill and called over his shoulder as he took a casual step over the edge, "I'll replace it tomorrow."

Sharon watched Rumlow go after Steve and struggled against Rick's hold, the unassuming ranger's grip far more solid than she would have guessed.

"Don't worry, Sharon. The boys will keep themselves busy until they wear themselves out, which gives us plenty of time to catch up." Trent signaled to Rick and the Hydra agent pushed Sharon into a nearby chair, securing her hands with ties she hadn't realized he'd carried.

Once she was secure, Trent crouched low, his voice a menacing whisper in her ear. "We have so much to talk about, Sharon. Tell me, when was the last time you talked to my mother?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **For as much as I love action and adventure, I find writing fight scenes exhausting. There's also just a lot going on in this chapter that I hope I make clear enough without coming right out and saying it - some of it will be clarified in later chapters or the next story (what's that? a trilogy, you say? yeah...i just can't help myself) but this chapter is where the magic happens.

I hope all of my readers (both of you) continue to enjoy. My goal is to end with twenty-one chapters, post a light holiday fic or two, and begin the third story after the New Year.

**Chapter Eighteen**

Steve looked up at the window he'd just fallen out of, not entirely sure what'd hit him.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He knew what had hit him. Or who, actually. He just wasn't sure how.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, before that someone was following the same path through the air that he'd taken.

Steve rolled, just missing the full weight of Rumlow as the Hydra agent landed heavily on his feet next to him.

Steve got to his feet and charged at Rumlow, only to have his first several blows blocked by a far faster and stronger agent than he remembered.

He'd sparred with Rumlow during their time with STRIKE, but nothing the former team commander had ever thrown at Steve compared to this. It wasn't long before Steve was on the defensive, ducking, blocking and dodging hits and kicks. Even after he'd managed to dislodge his shield from its harness under his jacket, Steve had a difficult time getting the upper hand.

_It's like fighting Bucky_, he thought, not liking the implication.

When he'd fought Rumlow at Sharon's grandparents' cabin, Steve could tell he'd been juiced with something, though it still hadn't been enough to match Steve's own strength and speed.

Now, however, Steve was worried Hydra had finally unlocked the secret to the super soldier serum and had turned Rumlow into someone he couldn't beat. He'd never backed down from a fight just because a foe was stronger or faster but he had been on the losing end enough times to know that, if this kept up, it wasn't going to end well.

As he tried to keep up with Rumlow, Steve worried about Sharon. She was alone up there with an armed Ranger Rick and her psychotic cousin. He knew she could take care of herself in a normal situation but this situation had turned into one far from normal.

* * *

><p>Sharon heard the sounds of Steve's fight with Rumlow through the broken window and struggled futilely against her bonds. There was nothing she could do for Steve, or even herself, at the moment.<p>

"Don't worry, Sharon," Trent said casually, pulling a chair up beside hers. "Brock's under orders not to kill him - just bloody him a bit."

Usually she wouldn't have thought that likely but the fight had already gone on longer than it should have - Steve should have been able to take Rumlow out in hand-to-hand with one of his tied behind his back. The fact that they'd been going for nearly five minutes had her on edge and wishing she could get her own hands on a weapon.

"So," Trent began, leaning casually back in his chair and resuming his line of questioning. "You didn't know that Mother was investigating me yet you somehow managed to track me down here anyway. I find that hard to believe, Sharon."

"It's true," she countered, seeing no reason not to admit how they'd found them. "We discovered the tracker on my car and traced it when it activated this morning. We assumed Rumlow put it there but we weren't sure who or what we were going to find in the middle of Antietam. You were not my first guess."

"You didn't seem overly surprised to see me."

Again, seeing no reason to lie, Sharon admitted, "We heard Aunt Peggy was trying to find out who had poisoned her and that you had become a suspect but I don't think she had any reason to doubt you before that.

"I should hope not," Trent said with a dramatic sigh. "I've worked very hard for many years to hide it from her. A shame she had to figure it out before I got what I needed from her."

"And what was that?"

"Now, Sharon," he admonished, "You are the one tied to a chair and I am the one asking the questions. Let's just say Mother has something that certain someones would like and they'd be very much appreciative if I was able to get it from her." He gave her a look. "You wouldn't know anything about this certain something, would you?"

"Not without knowing what the certain something is."

"Nice try but I'm still not going to tell you," Trent said, narrowing his eyes and taking a look at his watch. "I guess this means your usefulness has been reduced to that of a bargaining chip if Brock can't take down your boyfriend soon."

He stood and addressed Rick. "Put her in Brock's room. She can be his special treat when he's done with Captain Rogers."

Rick moved to comply, using his knife to loosen the binds that held Sharon's left hand. She flexed her hand, her fingertips tingling as her circulation returned.

As Rick worked, Trent moved to look out the broken window. He looked at his watch and then back out before, his lips pursed with concern.

"This has taken too long," he said to Rick, sounding surprisingly on edge to Sharon's ears considering his calm at their arrival. "Leave her for now and get a couple of the guys to help Brock finish with Captain Rogers."

Rick moved to comply but said, "He's not going to like that."

"In two minutes he won't have a choice. If we can't take Rogers down now, even our bargaining chip might not be enough to stop him from tearing this place apart."

"Do you want Plan B?" Rick asked, holstering his knife.

Trent hesitated and then nodded.

"I'm on it," the Hydra ranger said, using the radio at his shoulder to call for his associates as he left the kitchen.

Trent looked at his watch again and frowned even more deeply.

As the seconds ticked by, Trent became more and more agitated and Sharon used his distraction to her advantage. Somehow, it had escaped both his and Rick's notice that they'd left one of her hands free.

As subtly as she could, she used that free hand to quietly unzip her hiking pack at her waist as Trent continued to stare out the window.

* * *

><p>Brock was getting tired. He could practically hear the countdown in his head as he delivered a series of kicks and punches that had begun to feel too slow, too sluggish. He knew he needed to take down Rogers and take him down now before he was completely drained.<p>

The hero's unwillingness to yield was maddening. Already, Rogers had sustained blows that should have knocked him to his knees, super soldier or not.

Brock had been preparing for this confrontation for months, had allowed Hydra's scientists to experiment on him, for the chance to take down Captain America. With every minute that ticked by, he could feel that chance slipping away.

He could feel his reflexes getting sloppy, taking a hit as his block didn't come up fast enough. He knew from testing that it wouldn't be long before his vision started to blur and not long after he wouldn't be able to stand. The strain of the drugs in his system, coupled with the physical exertion, was just too much for the human body to endure. In another couple of minutes, he knew from experience, he would collapse where he stood and sleep for days while his body recovered.

Before that happened, Brock knew that they'd initiate Plan B, even though he knew some of the lesser agents liked to call it Plan C.

For cannon.

It had been a hairbrained idea, likely inspired from too much time pretending to be Civil War experts, but somehow Rick had managed to turn two of the battlefield cannons into fully operational weapons.

Even as the edges of Brock's vision got hazy, he could see that Rick and another agent were wheeling the cannons into position. And he was barely awake when the first cannonball flew past him, taking Captain America with it.

* * *

><p>With Trent's eyes fixed on the fight outside the window, Sharon slowly used her small hunting knife to saw through the binds on her right wrist.<p>

Every so often Trent would look at his watch and then glance back at her but his focus seemed solely on the Rumlow and Steve.

Finally, she cut through the last of the rope and flexed her fingers as she had the first hand. She traded the knife for the collapsible baton in her pack and slowly rose out of the chair.

Without a sound, she flicked her wrist to expand her weapon to sixteen inches of solid metal and prepared to strike her cousin from behind.

As she raised her hand, both she and Trent were startled by the thundering boom that erupted below them and she looked out in horror as Steve was propelled backward several yards, colliding with the brick wall of the spring house.

After a breathless moment, Steve stood but Sharon could see that his arm and shield hung uselessly at his side and he leaned heavily against the brick.

Her heart pounded and the blood roared in her ears.

Sharon didn't bother with the baton and struck Trent with a solid right hook, his body falling limply to the floor. She turned and sprinted through the house, her body on autopilot as she neutralized the startled Hydra agents who got in her way.

She barreled through the front door, sending another agent flying backward down the stairs. She turned and ran to the end of the porch, making a fluid leap that barely interrupted her stride.

Sharon locked her eyes on Rick and another ranger as they fired a second cannon at Steve.

A howl ripped from her throat as she saw Steve go down, this time crashing into a service jeep parked in the drive.

She launched herself at Rick, her momentum knocking him on top of the other agent, who lost consciousness when his head collided with the ground.

Rick leaped up, clearly surprised at the sight of Sharon and the maimed rangers she'd left in her wake. He lunged at her, his arms open and she delivered an upward swing to his solar plexus that had him grasping for air. He stumbled forward and she delivered a kick, sending him to the ground as well.

Without a backward glance and her heart in her throat, Sharon ran across the yard.

A bruised, bloodied and barely breathing Steve was curled on his side in front of the jeep he'd hit, the front end of the vehicle bashed in.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god," Sharon chanted, slowly rolling him over and unable to hold back her gasp. Steve's eye was swollen shut, his lip split and, she feared, his jaw and cheek broken. She ran her hands down his body and tried to remove his shield to see how badly his left arm was hurt - and froze when Steve moaned. She looked more closely and saw that his arm was obviously broken and his shield was acting as a brace.

"Oh god," she said again. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

He didn't respond and Sharon blinked back tears. She had to hold it together. They weren't out of the woods yet and she needed to get him out of there.

The jeep had keys hanging from the ignition and rumbled to life on the second try.

Sharon dragged Steve as gently as she could, torn between the need for speed and not wanting to inflict more damage than Hydra had already done, and helped him lay down in the backseat.

As soon as he was settled, she jumped into the driver's seat and gave the historic farmhouse a final look before slamming the jeep into reverse and backing out of there as fast as the damaged vehicle could taken them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

As they sped away from the battlefield and the adrenaline faded, Sharon's hands shook on the steering wheel.

"Keep it together, Sharon," she said aloud, gripping the wheel. "Steve's depending on you."

Steve, for his part, was sprawled on the backseat where she'd left him, unmoving except for the occasional sway as she careened around a curve on the windy two-lane highway.

"C'mon, Sharon," she said between gritted teeth. "This wasn't your first combat situation."

But it hadn't been like any of the others.

She'd been a good SHIELD agent, rising through the ranks and on her way to becoming a Level 6 when Fury tapped her for special services. She'd been pleased with the assignment but also surprised; she'd always been a better analyst than operative. She could handle a gun, she could handle a knife and she could handle herself in hand-to-hand but she would have never been considered a one-woman assault team like Black Widow or the Calvary.

Not until today.

From the moment Steve went down to the moment she lifted him into the jeep, there'd been a clarity Sharon had never experienced before. Everything seemed to move faster and more slowly at the same time as she was able to anticipate and block the Hydra agents who got in her way. She'd hit and kicked with more strength, speed and accuracy than she'd ever done before.

And all without breaking a sweat.

Even getting Steve into the jeep had been easy. He was two hundred and forty pounds of gloriously solid muscle, of which she had intimate knowledge. She'd been pinned under his hunky bulk during make-out sessions or the odd nap and knew if he didn't move on his own, she wasn't going anywhere. Yet, only minutes ago, she'd hoisted him into the backseat like he'd been his ninety-five pound pre-serum self.

She needed to call Bucky. And Sam. Maybe even the National Guard.

She reached into the pouch at her waist only to discover her phone must have fallen out during their escape.

She hit the steering wheel in frustration, only to be distracted by the indicator light that drew her eyes to the temperature gauge. They were in danger of overheating - not surprising since the radiator and other parts of the engine had been compacted several inches when Steve crashed into the jeep.

She opened the windows, cancelled the air conditioning and opened the vents to draw the heat from the engine. The air came out hot and ugly but the needle on the gauge dipped ever-so-slightly which made the discomfort worth it.

Seeing that they wouldn't make it much farther in their damaged vehicle, Sharon began searching their surroundings for a suitable place to hide - someplace where she could stash the jeep and take care of Steve.

She spotted a foreclosed property sign a few miles down the road, the house obscured by the trees that lined the property.

Sharon navigated the vehicle up the long drive and breathed a tenative sigh of relief at the modest two-story with attached garage.

"Hold on, Steve," she said to the not-entirely-conscious hero as she got out to investigate. Judging by the overgrown grass, the property had been abandoned for several months, or at least hadn't been attended in that time.

The front door was bolted shut and Sharon made short work of the padlock on the garage door so she could pull the jeep inside.

She cut the engine but left the headlights on as she jumped out to pull the garage door shut, plunging them into darkness save for the lights from the jeep. Rakes and a shovel hung on the wall, leaves and debris were scattered on the floor and random hardware littered the workbench.

She took a screwdriver and hammer from the bench and used them to pop the lock on the interior door.

Leaving Steve in the jeep, Sharon did a quick walk-through of the house, seeing that it must have been abandoned in a hurry by the previous owners. Though a layer of dust covered everything, they'd left a collection of dishes in the open cupboards, a couch in the living room, an upturned mattress and boxspring in the first-floor bedroom and a pile of linens in the upstairs closet. The blinking clock on the stove and dripping faucet in the kitchen even indicated that the utilities hadn't been shut off yet.

Sharon grabbed blankets and towels from the closet and carried them down to the bedroom where she set the boxspring on the floor and the mattress on top. She threw the blanket over the bed and turned the hot water on full in the kitchen sink while she went out to get Steve.

He came partially awake as she moved him, shouldering most of his weight as he limped along beside her.

Once he was settled on the bed, she filled two bowls she'd found in the kitchen with now-hot water and tore a sheet into useful strips. With painstaking care, she slowly cleaned and assessed Steve's wounds.

As she wiped the blood from his face, she saw that the swelling in his eye had already gone down and some of the bruising on his cheek and jaw had already faded. She cut the straps of his shield from his arm and examined the break that seemed to have already started to knit itself together. She set his shoulder, her teeth gritted in effort and sympathy as he hissed in pain.

Sharon tried to muster some of the professional detachment she'd been taught in med school as she carefully removed Steve's jacket and pulled his shirt over his head but she couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks. His entire left side was a series of purple and yellow bruises. She pressed her ear to his chest and let more tears fall as she heard nothing but unobstructed air moving in and out of his lungs, confirmation that at least none of his ribs were broken.

Sharon followed the trail of bruises from his chest, to his abdomen and down as they darkened toward and below the waistline of his pants. She emptied his pockets, the pieces of his shattered phone falling on the bed and floor, and untied his shoes, letting them drop to the floor. Slowly, she unfastened his jeans and pulled them down, carefully lifting his hips in the process. With no choice, she pulled his boxer-briefs down to examine the darkest of the bruising on his left hip.

She probed gently, the flesh raw and embedded with jagged pieces of his damaged phone. Sharon ran out to the garage for a pair of pliers, sanitizing them as best she could using the stovetop in the kitchen, and used them to remove the largest of the plastic pieces from the wound, and cleaned and dressed it as best she could.

When she was finished, she draped the second blanket she'd taken over him and set his clothes neatly aside.

She laid a hand on Steve's forehead, his face, and heaved a sigh that at least he seemed to be fever-free and had transitioned into a deep sleep rather than the pain-filled haze he'd been in.

It would be dark a a handful of hours. By then, if he continued to rest and heal as he was, Steve would be ready to move on his own and they could figure out their next move.

She placed a kiss on his forehead, took a seat on the bed beside him and watched over him in the fading light.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Steve dreamed as he slept, dreamed of the pretty nurse who lived across the hall.

He'd liked her from the moment he met her; Kate, with her bright smile and ready dimples. Her schedule was just as inconsistent as his and he seemed to run into her at all hours of the day and night, her leaving or returning from a shift in pink or lavender scrubs and he returning from a mission with STRIKE team.

Those stolen moments on the stairs, the landing or in the vestibule getting their mail had become the highlights of his day. When the modern world didn't seem to make sense, she was always there with a warm greeting and a soft laugh to set it right again.

He should ask her out.

He could invite her for breakfast at the all-night diner he frequented, the one where they didn't bat an eye no matter how much food he ordered. Or see if she wanted to take in a ballgame since he could often hear the Nationals' game echoed from her apartment. Or maybe ask her out to a movie the next time they ran into each other at the video store down the street.

He just needed to ask her out.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he'd lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and think about asking her out.

She'd say yes, those dimples flashing. They'd go to dinner or a game or a movie. He'd be smooth and funny, and she'd laugh and touch his arm in her amusement. They'd take their time walking back to their building, their hands finding each other in the dark. He'd walk her to her door and she'd lean into him, his heart racing as their lips met in their imaginary first kiss. He'd touch her face, she'd whisper his name -

And then he'd come back to reality, alone and aching...his heart yearning for that human contact.

He should just ask her.

And she'd say yes.

* * *

><p>It was dark.<p>

Sometime in the hours that Steve slept, Sharon must have nodded off as well because she awoke with her head resting on his shoulder, her ears alert for a repeat of the sound that woke her.

"I heard it, too," Steve whispered against her hair. Before she could ask how long he'd been awake or how he felt, they heard another noise.

"Car doors," Sharon murmured, her ears straining as she heard heavy footfalls. "And footsteps. Someone's checking out the house."

Slowly, quietly, she slipped off the bed.

"Where are my clothes?" Steve asked as she heard the mattress shift under his weight.

Sharon handed him the pile and crept to the doorway. As she passed in front of the lone window, a movement caught her eye and she ducked just as something came crashing through the glass.

Without hesitation, she launched herself at the shadowy figure that followed, knocking him to the floor. She struck out, prepared to do so again, and a second figure charged at her - this one lavishing her face with slobbery kisses.

"Rocky?" she called out and was answered with a short bark.

"Rocky!" she repeated, throwing her arms around the German Shepherd as the dog pranced with excitement.

"I'm here, too," Bucky said and Sharon shifted from where she had straddled the prone Winter Soldier.

Relief flooded Sharon as a half-dressed Steve hit the wall switch and the bare bulb in the ceiling filled the room with light to reveal an annoyed looking Bucky and a happy Rocky.

"When the hell did you start hitting like that? If I didn't know better, I'd have thought Steve hit me." He made a show of massaging his jaw. "And what the hell you two have been up to? You fool around enough at home so please tell me you didn't leave Rocky cooped up in my apartment all day so you could make out in the middle of nowhere."

"I hope if Steve and I ever go away together it will be more romantic than this," Sharon said and explained everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, beginning with Hawkeye's visit and ending with their escape after Steve was shot at with two Civil War cannons.

When she finished, she asked Bucky,"How did you find us?"

"I tracked your phone and found it at one of the old houses at the Antietam battlefield, which was deserted, by the way. If there were Hydra agents before, they're long gone now." He sat on the mattress and patted it for Rocky to join him as Steve and Sharon paced. "When I didn't find you with your phone, I called Sam and he had Maria run a trace on Steve's phone, which led me here."

"But Steve's phone was busted," Sharon said, indicating the plastic pieces mixed in with the broken glass from Bucky's entrance.

"I don't question how you modern women do things, I just know that she directed me to this address and here you are." He gave Rocky a scratch behind the ears when the dog whined softly at being ignored. "So are we worried Hydra's finally got their own super serum."

"I don't think it's the serum like we think," Sharon said thoughtfully. "But maybe a super steroid."

"What's the difference?" Bucky asked.  
>"There have been a lot of attempts and a lot of failures to recreate what Dr. Erskine did for Steve. What if Hydra - or at least this branch - realized they'd never make super soldiers but could temporarily enhance the agents they already have.<p>

"You said yourself, Steve, that you thought Rumlow was juiced with something when he attacked me at the cabin and that confirmed something I'd heard about all of STRIKE team being hopped up on performance enhancers. Maybe they've finally developed a super steroid to give their agents an advantage over the likes of you and Bucky and even Thor and Iron Man."

"I don't like the sound of super steroids any more than I like the idea of Hydra making their own super soldiers," Steve said.

"I think the Rumlow taking on Steve was a test and I think it means the steroids are far from perfect given that he wasn't able to take down Steve," Sharon said. "But it does give us one more thing to worry about Hydra throwing at us."

"Great," Bucky muttered. "Because I needed one more thing to worry about."

* * *

><p>Bucky found a piece of plywood to cover the window he'd broken and Steve cleaned up the glass while Sharon and Rocky took care of the rest of the materials they'd borrowed from their temporary housing.<p>

When they were finished, they made note of the bank's information so Sharon could cut them a check for the damages on Monday. They then loaded into Sharon's car, which Bucky and Rocky had borrowed, and headed back to Antietam to verify that the Hydra base and not-rangers were truly gone as Bucky had reported.

The Sherrick Farmhouse had been cleared out, though the gleaming wood and repairs remained as proof that Trent and his ilk had been there, and they found no clues in the limited light and time they allowed themselves to look around.

They found Steve's truck in the parking lot where they'd left it and, and spent several minutes looking it over for any tampering before he and Sharon climbed in.

As they followed the taillights of Bucky and Rocky in Sharon's car, Sharon let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sure they'll show up again when we least want them to," Steve assured her.

She nodded, knowing he was right. "And we have to talk to Peggy," she said. "Tell her what we know about Trent's involvement, find out what she knows. I understood and respected the need for compartmentalization when there was a SHIELD but now it's just us and we can't be running around half-cocked and half-informed."

Steve agreed, reaching for her hand. "As much as I agree, we will have to go easy on her. He is her son."

"A son who poisoned his own mother." Sharon squeezed his hand, the solid strength giving her comfort. "I can only hope Aunt Peggy wants him found as badly as we do and doesn't interfere."

"Do you think she would?"

Sharon was quiet, not liking her own answer and said, "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Peggy wasn't surprised when Sharon and Steve arrived at her estate Sunday morning.

She even had a pretty good idea why they were there so early, their faces grim, as she answered the door herself and led them to her study.

Without preamble, something Peggy liked to think her niece had learned from her, Sharon said, "We know Trent's the one who poisoned you."

Peggy sat behind her large desk, the very one she'd helmed for many years as the head of SHIELD, and took her time as she swiveled her chair toward Sharon, then toward Steve.

"You don't seem surprised," Steve said, breaking the silence.

"No," Peggy said, her voice sad even as a small half-smile pressed at her lips. "No, I am not. Trent was always an angry little boy and he became an even angrier man. I tried not to see it, ignored it when I could, but I know I can't any longer."

She picked up a folder on her desk, its appearance and contents very similar to the one Sharon had compiled on Trent back at headquarters.

"It didn't take long once my head was clear to figure out who had given me the poison that mimicked the symptoms of Alzheimer's. I became sick shortly after Mother's Day, after receiving an unexpected delivery of flowers and my favorite truffles from Trent."

That sad smile grew wider as Peggy reminisced.

"I hadn't heard from him in years, only because he was better at avoiding my calls than his sister was. Poor Patricia, I know she didn't want to talk to me but good manners - which means I must have done something right - meant that I could count on at least one annual update about her, my grandchildren and her brother.

"Patricia told me about Trent's divorce and, in a moment of weakness, told me how devastated he was and that she was worried about him. Shortly after, I received his gift - my favorite chocolates from a small shop in England - and a card about appreciating the women in his life. I assumed his divorce had shaken him, as Patricia had said, and maybe this would be our chance to reconcile."

The sad smile faded for a moment.

"It was the last coherent thought I had for three years."

Steve leaned forward in his chair, his hand reaching across the desk to cover Peggy's in sympathy.

"We'll find him, Peggy," he said reassuringly. "We'll find him and we'll stop him."

Peggy looked at Steve and he had a moment of déjà vu as she seemed to struggle with her return to the present.

When her eyes were clear again, the sad-smile returned. "I know you will, Steve," she said. "And I won't stand in your way. But I also won't help you."

"Peggy -" Steve said, pulling his hand away.

"No, Steve," she said, that steel in her voice like the old days as she straightened in her chair. "Trent has done terrible things, I can't deny that. But he is my son and I cannot deny that either. My dedication to SHIELD over my children is the very reason he is who he is. I will not make that choice again."

"Even after what he did to you?" Sharon asked. "What he's done to us?"

Peggy shook her head. "I know you know about my investigation, and this is exactly why I didn't tell you. I can't be party to Trent's fall. I won't betray my son."

"Aunt Peggy," Sharon protested, only to stop when Steve touched her shoulder with the hand he'd only moments ago tried to comfort Peggy with. Sharon had worried it would come to this, Peggy choosing to protect her son despite the horrible things he was involved in, but it didn't make the hurt any less. Peggy had been the one who'd taught her to fight for what was right, no matter the cost, and now...

"Let's go," she whispered to Steve.

Peggy did not move to stop them and remained seated at her desk until long after they'd pulled away.

* * *

><p>It was a quiet car ride back to DC, neither Sharon nor Steve willing to be the one to break the silence, to pierce the heavy veil that had descended.<p>

Even after Steve pulled into the garage and turned off the truck, they sat in silence.

After several minutes, Steve reached over and unbuckled Sharon's seatbelt. Before she could ask what he was doing, he'd lifted her from her seat and onto his lap.

"Steve..." she said in protest.

He ignored her and instead stroked her back soothingly, giving comfort he didn't quite feel yet.

She relaxed against him, letting his solid strength seep into her, and held his free hand with her own.

"Even knowing it was a possibility, I can't believe Aunt Peggy would side with Trent," she said softly.

The gentle rhythm of Steve's caress didn't waver as he reminded her, "I sided with Bucky, even after the terrible things he did."

Sharon pulled away and scowled at him. "Bucky was brainwashed, Steve. Trent is just a brat." She closed her eyes, quoting Peggy. "'He was always an angry little boy.' What a load of crap."

"But he is her son," Steve countered. "Imagine if it was our son. Would we choose any differently?"

"Our kids aren't going to be psychopaths when they grow up," Sharon protested and then gave him a look as the meaning of his words took hold. "What do you mean 'our son'?"

"I meant..." Steve looked down at their joined hands. "I just.."

Sharon's anger faded as she touched Steve's jaw lightly, bringing his head back up and locking her eyes with his. "Steve, do you want to have children with me?"

"Of course I do," he said instantly, then clarified, "I mean, not right now but I've thought about it, our future, and...well, I don't even know if it's possible but I'd like to..."

She cut him off, pressing her lips to his.

When they separated, she couldn't help but smile...even as he blushed.

"I love you, Steve."

"I love you, Sharon, but I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry, pal," she said. "I'm not planning a wedding just yet but it is nice to know that you think about that, our future together."

"All the time," he admitted.

She smiled. "Me, too."

They kissed again, ignoring the protests from a disgusted Bucky who'd come down to see what the delay was all about.

"It's like all of the time with you two," he said, turning to go back up the stairs and signally for Rocky to follow. He was glad that the man he thought of as a brother and the woman he loved as a sister were so happy together, really, but there was only so much he could take.

"C'mon, Rocky," he said as she followed him up to his apartment and turning on the news. "Let's find some bad guys."

**Author's Note**: And so ends "Build It Up, Tear It Down." There will be a Christmas-themed short and others as we lead up to the (what is currently slated to be) final story in this little trilogy the muses cooked up.


End file.
